Like Metal in Water
by Alma
Summary: No matter how far he falls, she's always in his head. Amidst the bloodshed and addiction, there remains loyalty. Twisted CloTi... Not fluff.
1. An Introduction

_Two years after DoC..._

_Somewhere in Junon... _

-An Introduction-

* * *

Streaks of rain glinted on the glass window like thin jagged teeth with every flash of lightning. Safe indoors from the onslaught of water outside, I peered down at the glistening pavement below, the moon's reflection in the puddles indiscernible through the raindrops' distortions. But the cozy single bedroom apartment above an affluent café seemed distinctly apart from the storm. A tiny warm space, one of millions in this city, expensive, slightly decrepit, but nevertheless it was shelter. It was someone's home. But it wasn't mine. 

I gazed down at the digital display on my phone. No, it wasn't time yet. He wouldn't be home for at least another half hour. Retreating from the window, I moved into the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards. Empty economy-grade food cartons, a few dented cans, a single loaf of bread, and some leftover restaurant take-out in the fridge. That was all. But I was hungry and I still had some time to kill.

Popping open the lid of the take-out, I leaned on my shoulder against the far wall opposite to the door, the katana still firmly sheathed low on my back. Cold noodles. Delicious, actually. The single bulb hanging from the ceiling flickered momentarily. Storms in Junon were frequent and power-outages hardly rare. After Meteor, all sorts of strange weather phenomena began occurring. I've heard Edge gets very snowy this time of year. Not that I would know.

The light patter of sudden footsteps grabbed my attention. Someone was slowly ascending the staircase from the side alley of the closed café below. No, it couldn't be him. He was early. I put the open food container on the kitchen table and raised my right hand slowly to rest on the hilt of the weapon near the center of my back, lowering my eyes to the door. My own footsteps were soundless as I moved out of the kitchen, back into the darkness of the hallway.

The entry door emitted several clicks as a series of keys were turned in each of its numerous locks. A pity he thought simple locks would keep him safe.

He entered. I was motionless, confident in my concealment. The target was a lot shorter than I expected, and balding. A picture can only say so much, I suppose. But the face was identical. It was definitely him. His shoulders slumped with an air of self-defeat, his eyes straining in the dim lighting from the still-flickering lamp. He cursed the storm outside, removing his raincoat and muddy boots. I was waiting. For exactly the moment I had set up.

And then it happened. The man stepped into the kitchen and froze the moment his eyes fell on the open take-out container sitting squarely in the center of his tacky green and orange tablecloth. Realization hit him. He was not alone.

In one fluid motion I stepped forward, unsheathing the blade with practiced precision. It was much lighter and easier to maneuver than the previous weapon I had encumbered myself with in the past. This katana was different, but not necessarily favorable. All thoughts aside, the thin blade swiped majestically in a beautiful half circle towards the target's neck.

"Wait!" He let out a pathetic cry, his eyes wide with terror.

Tensed muscles held the weapon taut against his flesh. I waited, curious what this one would say.

"Your eyes! Y–you're a m–m–mako user, aren't you? Listen, buddy, I….I got a whole bunch of it on me! You can have it! Just take it and d–d–don't hurt me!" he pleaded.

Did he really confuse me for those junkies on the street who would murder their own mother for another pill? I glared back at him.

"Please!" he begged.

Without reply, I pulled the katana slowly towards me, centering my footing. The metal swung back at him, my wrist twisting upward gracefully. The sound of steel slicing through bone and blood tore through the air. The muffled gurgling of his scream sputtered to a halt almost instantly. Wrenching my katana out of his body cavity, the carcass fell forward onto the floor, blood pooling in an obedient oval around him.

The wound was clean. I wiped the edge of my sword on the dead man's shirt, and picked back up the container of cold noodles, finishing the rest. Done and done.

I emptied his pockets, producing three slender green pills amongst other useless trivialities. So he was telling the truth. Not that I would have spared his life anyway. A job's a job. And it would be foolish to let these go to waste. The pills went into my pocket and the empty take-out container went back on the table.

I entered as a stranger and I left as a stranger. It's always better that way. I never knew his name, or even why he was a target. I considered ordering food from that noodle restaurant in the near future as I departed with phone in hand, dialing my boss's number.

Straight into voicemail. I left a message, as I always do.

"Order 22 is filled. Inform the customer."

Just another number.


	2. Empty Passage

-Empty Passage-

* * *

Outside, the storm continued fiercely with no foreseeable end. My bike was parked a quarter mile away in a twenty four hour indoor garage, so I would have to walk through the rain, which I truly detested because it reminded me of––well, nevermind. I swore I would forget, so I will forget. 

Remaining close to building sides and stopping under intermittent alcoves as frequency permitted, I made my way slowly along the top tiered portion of the city, the ocean to my left in the distance, lost in a spray of rain thick as fog. This older part of the city remained its most popular and since the demilitarization, it had become a trendy tourist spot. The tiers overlooking the ocean became prime real estate while the rest of the city continued to degrade. Slums expanded outward into the surrounding land. That was where I lived. But unlike most of the others who reside there, it was my choice.

The parking garage was deserted, and my bike sat immaculate in a corner of cracking cement next to a faded red convertible, which I was sure someone wisely stowed due to the storm. Salt spray from the ocean probably isn't good for paint.

Unfortunately, I had no choice but to drive home in that same salt spray. I unsheathed the katana and sat on my bike, activating the storage system with my thumb. The front sides of the bike slid open and six thin slits stared hollowly up at me. Tenderly I slid the katana into the top right space, locking it into place with a tiny click of metal on metal. The other five spots remained vacant, hungry. I'm not sure why I never had those modifications removed.

With a twist of burnt rubber on concrete, I was gone. Back on the streets, the rain stung my face like tiny needles, but my only thoughts were on returning home. Pavement and steel sided buildings gave away to dirt and crumbling wooden facades until at last the edge of the city was in sight. Short dilapidated rows of apartments appeared through the tearing rain and wind like ghosts.

Parking my bike in the thin alleyway between my building and the next, allowing it reasonable protection from the storm, I climbed the stairs to my sanctuary. Wiping rain from my face, I fumbled a bit for the right key before entering the main foyer. The immediate dry air was a relieving contrast to the water coating my clothes and skin. The door slammed shut behind me, and the roar of the wind outside shook the panes of the small dusty window next to the row of mailboxes along the wall. Seven other tenants lived in this building besides me, each allocated an identical single bedroom apartment.

Trudging up the bowing stairs, I removed one of the tiny cylindrical pills from my pocket, admiring the faint greenish hue in my palm. The dead man's pills. They called it 'mako'. It began appearing on the streets shortly after Meteor, but the societal effects took a while to permeate the mainstream. The addictive properties of the drug were severe enough to drive the wealthy into ruin and give power to the suppliers, who could subtly control whole neighborhoods through manipulating distribution of a good that suddenly everyone wanted. Just when things were starting to pull themselves together...

Of course, it wasn't really Mako, just an interesting nickname because it was supposed to make one feel powerful, invincible - both common misconceptions perpetuated by those who didn't truly know what pure Mako feels like. Real Mako, I can say with certainty, is not the overwhelming euphoria coupled with delusions of grandeur that any good dealer nowadays would have you believe. It is hell. Painful, gripping hell. Being poisoned by it twice has done nothing to convince me otherwise.

But this pill...

Truthfully, I had no idea what it was. Some narcotic cooked up by ex-ShinRa employees, no doubt searching for another means of controlling the populace. But the name 'mako' stuck because one side-effect of the drug was that trademark dim glow in the eyes of someone who's been using it. It was temporary, but unfortunately mirrored the same permanent feature I carried.

Reaching the door to my apartment, I quickly cupped my open palm against my mouth, swallowing the pill before turning the knob and entering.

The pills never made me feel the same anymore. It was just out of curiosity at first, from the name. I had to know if it contained even a trace of actual Mako. Sure, one felt stronger and faster and smarter temporarily, but it wasn't authentic. No contest against the increased strength and resilience from the real Mako drenching my own cells. No, I had known immediately it wasn't Mako, though it did bring a feeling of unsettling happiness. A carefree wind over the mind, lifting away fears and regrets. No wonder it was so popular with those that had lost the most.

But, like all good things, the effects decreased gradually until I found myself swept up in the desire for more. The natural Mako in my body granted some immunity against the harsher side-effects, but a strange pattern of increasing tolerance emerged. That's why I never felt the same elation again. I no longer took it to feel better; I took it to avoid feeling worse.

I never meant for things to be this way, but I suppose that's how life is. Nobody ever really means for anything to turn out the way it does. I'm sure if my mother had known I would later be solely responsible for allowing a madman to summon Meteor, thereby destroying the largest city on the planet and killing thousands, she would have smothered me with a pillow as a newborn. A mistake.

Humans are allowed to make mistakes.

No matter what, I would never become like those junkies on the streets that you hear about on the news, stabbing each other just for another pill. Senseless. Pathetic. Inhuman.

I locked the door tightly and yawned, walking into the kitchen. The left-over restaurant food from the target's house earlier was not enough to suffice for dinner, so I decided to cook something more substantial.

A slight stirring noise brought me to a pause. Shifting my weight slightly, I listened carefully, alerted. I was not alone.

"Is that you, Cloudie?" a faltering female voice called from the bedroom.

Candace. A young woman with rapturous long blonde hair that I had met a few nights ago and didn't exactly have the heart to explicitly kick out. I had expected her to be gone by now, but...

She was one of those hopefuls whose dream was crushed in Meteor when she lost everything. Cheated of her livelihood, angry at the world, she resorted to prostitution in Junon to make ends meet. For whatever reason, she burst into tears the moment I took her home and divulged her sad tale.

She told me her name was Candi.

I told her my name was Cloud.

We mutually agreed the other couldn't possibly be truly named something that ridiculous.

She later disclosed her real name was indeed Candace and told me to stop using the name of "that famous guy from Midgar". How fitting that we should both be telling the truth, yet suspecting the other of fraud. Good thing she didn't know what "that famous guy from Midgar" looked like and I didn't want to correct her regarding my birthplace. Nibelheim, not Midgar. Ah, it doesn't matter.

All I was to her was a mako user who happened to own an apartment and hold a job. The details of my work I chose to leave unspecified. But, she confessed the night I met her, she felt drawn to the constant sense of danger that hung around me like an unseen monster. Danger, she explained, excites her because the shroud of safety is always false.

"There is no such thing as safety. Danger is truth," she had cried into my arms, "It keeps us alive. Keeps us running."

I didn't agree, but I was sympathetic. That was two nights ago. We were just using each other, that much was true. Her long golden hair caught in my mouth when her smooth body surged over mine, head bent down in sad acceptance, an outlet for lust. The world had consumed her. She just wanted mako when I ran out of cash. Fine. I just didn't want her getting any ideas about... us.

"I didn't know you were still here," I called to her, not in an unkind way.

"I was thinking all day," her voice floated back towards me, "And I feel like this is the beginning of something for me. A change. Something ... good."

"And when did you decide that?"

"After meeting you, I felt ... calm. I don't see them in my dreams anymore."

Them. The family and friends she lost.

"Everything's been so out of control since Meteor," she continued, her voice growing more steady, "But now, I think, maybe I can finally get it back together. My life."

I couldn't think of anything to say back to her, so I commenced filling a pot with water from the sink and setting it on the stove to boil.

"And," she announced, her footsteps behind me in the doorway between the kitchen and hallway, "Look, I feel different already. I dyed my hair dark while you were at work!"

This caught my attention. I turned tensely to face her. She stood leaning against the doorframe, wearing nothing but an oversized white shirt, a cigarette hanging from her full red lips. Long dark brown hair fell past her shoulders, and for a second I saw her eyes smolder in a deep burgundy color, vivid against her pale skin. Swallowing hard, I averted my eyes.

"Why dye it? I liked the blonde," I said briskly, staring down at the pot of water.

"It was time for a change. And change is good, right?" her voice edged upward.

"You looked better blonde, is all."

"You don't like it?"

I shook my head, still staring at the water.

"What, you won't even look at me now?" she shouted angrily, "Because of my hair?" A low laugh escaped her mouth in a huff.

"That's ... not it."

"You hate brunettes or something?"

I closed my eyes for just a second, exhaling.

"I think you should leave..." I said softly.

"Oh real typical! Shallow! You know what, fuck you."

Extreme irritability. Frequent mood-swings. Overall unpredictable behavior. The common ugly effects of mako that I was gracefully free of, thanks to the real Mako protecting my body chemistry.

She marched back into the bedroom, and I could hear her rummaging violently through various things. After several minutes, she stuck her head out of the doorway, long brown hair swaying elegantly.

"Do you have any cash?" she asked coldly.

I shook my head.

"...Mako, then?"

I had a feeling she wouldn't leave without it either way. With a sigh I retrieved the other two pills from my pocket and handed them over. A smile split across her face as she hungrily closed her palm around the two tiny objects. She disappeared once more into the bedroom.

The mako I had taken before coming home was beginning to kick in. A delicate shade of subtle calmness fell over me. I could forget it all easier this way. The smell of her hair. The fragile haunting nature of her eyes, following me. The last night with her before everything went to hell. Yes, I would like to forget. As I was sure she already had. Tifa...

Candace reappeared, fully dressed with her bag slung over her shoulder, lighting another cigarette. Her hair was tied back now, and she glared at me viciously.

"So you really want me to go, just like that, huh?" she spat and inhaled a mouthful of smoke.

"I just don't think you should stay here with me."

"Oh, I see. I get it. So you fuck me and now you don't care. No different from any of the others," she laughed sardonically, "Thanks for the mako, and for taking away what little hope I had in humanity. Hah, and I really thought you were different! I really felt something with you!"

Without waiting for my reply, she pushed past me and left, slamming the door behind her. Normally, erratic behavior like that would bother me because I certainly never meant her any harm. I hadn't known her for very long at all, but she clearly had brought too much baggage with her. Nobody could fix that but her. And she was gone.

Just another face. Another consequence of Meteor. I didn't dwell on it long.

Suddenly my phone rang once, indicating a new message. I checked the number it was sent from – my boss.

Flipping open the screen, I examined the new orders. A picture, an address, and a time next to tomorrow's date. Two jobs so close together was a nice rarity. This week's pay was going to be enormous. I smiled.


	3. Swallowed by the Sea

- Swallowed by the Sea -

* * *

Late in the afternoon, I awoke completely unsettled by something in a dream that faded instantly upon waking. Sitting in bed for several moments, I struggled to regain a glimpse of what had brought such strong disturbance. But it was gone. My pillow still smelled like that woman. I threw it aside and realized, unhappily, that I did not have any mako.

Faint patches of sunlight were filtering in through the window, and outside the storm had long dissipated, leaving nothing but sparse gray clouds in its wake against a sheet of blue. Getting mako was a priority. I showered and dressed and made my way into the city. There was still some time before tonight's job, and I didn't intend to spend it trapped in lethargy.

The ocean burned bright and clear on the distant horizon. I think that's why I chose Junon, because the water was so close. A volatile piece of nature that remained unaffected by Meteor, it was pure. Often I'd catch myself staring off into the hazy intangible space where the ocean meets the sky, neither one ever able to swallow the other.

Hot dry air baked the upper tier's commercial district, and the streets were crowded with perspiring masses. Veering off into a side-street, I parked my bike and entered a popular bar located at the dead-end of the next alley over. Originally just a pool hall, it had been converted into a bar once business began to pick up due to Junon's increase in population after Meteor. Despite its gain of wealth since then, the owner opted to maintain the original atmosphere – a re-creation of a famous bar from Midgar. No, not _her_ bar. A bar from Sector Two, supposedly one that Rufus Shinra had frequented.

The moment I entered, I heard a familiar voice.

"Heeeey! My favorite customer!"

The bartender yelled happily from across the room, extending his arms. An acquaintance of mine and a dealer. He was the first person I met when I came here a year ago. I wouldn't exactly call him a close friend, but he's the one who got me my job.

It was still too early for the bar to be crowded, but there were a few hopeless patrons mindlessly downing mugs of beer. He motioned me over and I complied. A smile crept onto his face as he leaned close and extended his palm, a tiny bag of powder in the center.

"This, my friend, is the newest. This is pure crushed mako, available for more immediate consumption. Interested?" he grinned.

"I...No, I just need the regular stuff," I replied, glancing around the room.

There were certainly no laws against mako, but I always grew paranoid of other users.

"Are you sure? You don't know what you're missing, my friend. This stuff hits ya instantly! Just need to liquefy it and inject it -"

"Needles? No thanks."

"Hmm, if you're certain..." he frowned, then sighed, "Now, regular stuff... Let's see, you're quite lucky. I'm discounting the regular stuff since this new stuff is really a hit. So uh, let's say 2000 gil per."

"That's just it. I don't have the money now..."

"Well, I'm a reasonable man. How much do you have now?"

"Nothing. This girl I was with...well, I don't get paid until tomorrow, but I need it today."

"Ah, a girl?" his eyes illuminated knowingly, "How did you like Candi? She's a personal favorite of mine."

"Do me a favor and don't send any more of those girls my way, ok?"

"Oh, relax! Not all of them are mako junkies," he chuckled and retrieved a small metal box from under the counter, opening it and sifting through the contents.

"Well, mako junkie or not, I'm not interested in anyone with that sort of emotional instability," I lowered my voice, "She wanted to ... stay with me."

"You should take that as a compliment! Oh, don't tell me you're still not over that chick you left in Edge? That was nearly a year ago," he commented with a rather disapproving look.

"I know. But, look, can I get some mako today and pay you back tomorrow when I get paid?"

He sighed and looked at me for several moments, his gray eyes sagging with age and heavy contemplation.

"Alright. Only because you're my favorite customer, and I wouldn't want any trouble from Jude's people," he grinned at me again.

Jude. My boss.

"Thanks," I said with relief, "I really mean it."

He took my hand and passed a small cylinder into my fingers - four tiny pills within.

"Tomorrow," he said firmly, narrowing his eyes on me.

With a nod and a smile, I left the bartender's good graces, feeling much more content. A tiny weight on my chest evaporated as I quickly downed one pill, shoving the others in my pocket. It was still hot as hell outside, the ocean swelling and spattering against the sleek edge of the lower tiers below. There was plenty of time to scope out the newest target's address and general whereabouts. Glancing down at the address and picture in my phone, I made my way towards the opposite side of the upper tier, towards the wealthy residential district.

The congestion of crowds dissipated as the various stores and cafes tapered off into large apartment complexes. Unfortunately, the address I received just happened to be located inside the richest part of the neighborhood. The building in question was a huge granite construction, black stone with gold script lettering over the entrance. Panning my eyes upwards, I noted the camera atop the building, aimed down at the doorway, and the card slot next to a digital key reader on the door itself. Simply walking in was out of the question. But there was always more than one door to these types of places.

I needed to get to higher ground and survey the area more efficiently. Three buildings down, there was a large supermarket extending two stories, filled with customers. Entering swiftly, it wasn't difficult to remain inconspicuous amidst the crowds and get into the upper storage rooms. Feigning an interest in finding the restroom, I went to the stairwell and ascended to the roof, past the ventilation systems. All this stealth shit was not my forte, but usually necessary.

Prying open the steel rooftop maintenance door, I emerged undetected and at an immediate vantage to the target's formidable apartment building down the street. Blue sky twisted exhaustingly outwards high above, and below me countless people trudged along, the noise from their general chatter concealing all other sounds. Leaning down behind the brick-lined edge, I was safely out of sight from the street and free to examine the apartment building nearby and anything around it. This was my least favorite part of any job, but you'd be surprised at how much knowledge you can gain simply by observing. Human behaviors tended to orbit around routine, and from up on the roof, I could clearly see anyone entering and leaving that building.

Before I could begin establishing any sort of pattern, sudden movement on the street caught my eye. A man in a bright red shirt had stumbled and was hurriedly getting to his feet, glancing behind himself several times and wiping his brow. The crowd paid little attention to his frantic motions, but I recognized him from the picture in my phone. The target. Of course, I couldn't be absolutely certain due to the distance, but he was definitely acting paranoid. He stood staring off in the direction he had come from, definite panic in his gestures - the way he kept closing and opening his fists, for example. Then, he dashed towards the apartment building with sudden vigor, glanced all around and evidently decided not to go home, for the next thing I knew, the red shirt was running off down the road out of sight.

I scanned the street, curious as to what caused such fright in him. A tall bald man suddenly emerged from the end of the block, walking with intent. He was wearing a full suit despite the heat, and a pair of black sunglasses...

...Rude?

"Well, look what we have here."

The sudden voice behind me completely killed my good mood.

"Reno..." I muttered and turned around slowly.

Baton resting on one shoulder, Reno stared down at me with a sinister grin, the stark copper-red hair bright against the cerulean sky above.

"And I was just starting to think you were dead," he said mildly, an air of amusement in his tone.

"How did you find me?" I asked, suspicious at once.

"We weren't looking for you, if that's what you're trying to imply."

"So what do you want then?"

"What, I can't say hello to an old pal?" he replied with a mock frown.

"We were never pals," I reminded him.

Reno cocked his head to the side, gazing down at the street, and a heavy silence fell between us. I wanted nothing to do with him and his presence was nothing short of irritating. He chewed the end of his toothpick for a good minute, then turned his shiny Mako eyes back at me.

"You look awful, Cloud. What have you been doing all this time?" he asked with a smirk.

"What are the Turks doing here?" I was not going to entertain his questions.

"We're here on a job, of course. But once I spotted you in the supermarket downstairs, well, I had to know what became of the mighty Cloud Strife," he scoffed, "So this is where you've been hiding? Junon?"

"I'm not hiding. I live here now," I insisted.

"Uh huh. Ya know, vanishing in the dead of night without ever contacting anyone again and then me finding you secluded but alive and well atop a rooftop in the most populated city, well... some may call that hiding," he stated sarcastically and shrugged.

"I saw Rude following that guy in the red shirt. What do the Turks want with him?" I kept my mind focused on the job.

"Since we're old friends and all, I guess it wouldn't hurt to let you know. We're going to kill him. I hope he isn't another long lost brother of yours or something," Reno said devilishly. Quite a clever jab at me. Reno always had a way with words.

"Stay away from him. He's wanted by my boss and he's mine," I replied.

"Nope, can't do that, yo. Rufus is still more powerful than any local druggie you may or may not work for, or have you been hiding so long you forgot all about ShinRa?" his words cut harshly.

"I haven't forgotten about ShinRa..." I glared at him, venom rushing through me at the mention of that word.

"Good, because we haven't forgotten about you. Now, as much as I love chatting, I really must get back to work, so uh, write once in a while, yo," the sarcasm never ceased with him, "And don't get in our way with this one."

"Can't promise you that."

He gave me one last haughty smile and turned to leave, the ponytail of red hanging down the back of his wrinkled black blazer. His presence had brought back an unfortunate flow of memories, and a crushing weight fell on my chest.

"Aren't you going to ask me," Reno said mockingly, pausing in his retreat, "about her?"

"No," I took a deep breath, "No, I'm not."

Reno shrugged and opened the steel door, vanishing into the staircase below. Immediately, I swallowed another pill, desperate to halt the sinking feeling. For several minutes, I remained on the roof with my eyes closed trying to staunch the images and smells that were returning to me – dark mahogany eyes glaring at me, the taste of coffee on her lips, fresh soapy scent of her skin. The last night I saw her. Before she asked me to leave the next morning.

The mako did its trick, although the effects, as I mentioned before, steadily became less and less potent. The delicate shade of happiness pulled itself over me and clarity returned to my thoughts. I needed to focus on the task at hand.

With the Turks involved, it would be difficult to complete the job. I flipped open my phone and called my boss, unsure of how to proceed. Most people didn't want to mess around where ShinRa's involved.

"What?" a gruff voice answered at once.

"The Turks are onto the same target. They will interfere," I said flatly.

"The order should have been filled before the Turks even arrived!" he yelled back.

"Impossible. It looks like they've been tailing the target for some time now."

There was a pause on the other end, a deep inhaling of smoke.

"Alright," he continued, less angry, "If the Turks are involved it means this guy is bad bad news. And I don't need ShinRa crawling up my ass. Forget about that one. I'll inform the customer later. But listen, I've got another job for you. Meet me at the usual place in an hour."

"Ok."

The call ended. Jobs were always issued via cell phone, and it was highly unusual for me to meet with the boss any other day but payday, which wasn't until tomorrow. Whatever job he had next I knew would be extremely important.

Once I was back down on the street, the Turks had long since vanished, along with the old target. Whoever that guy was, he must have really been in trouble to warrant ShinRa's notice. No matter. Not my problem anymore. I spent the rest of an hour at a café on the tip of the upper tier, at a seat directly next to the glass window overlooking the sea. The blue of the ocean against the sky stretched into infinity, blending into one another at the horizon until I couldn't tell either one apart. After precisely an hour had passed, the tiny bell above the door jingled softly as my boss entered, nodding at the waitress who immediately rushed to bring us a pot of coffee.

Jude sat down opposite me. He was a younger man around my age with jet black hair, wearing a full business suit and constantly smoking a cigarette. A scar down the left side of his neck was the only indication that he could possibly be involved with dangerous things. Otherwise, he could simply disappear into a crowd of respectable citizens.

"I've taken care of it, so don't worry about that last job," he said immediately, flicking ashes onto the floor.

"So what's this new job, then?"

The waitress stopped at our table, placed two white cups in front of us, each filled with hot black coffee. Jude smiled up at her, but she departed quickly, not returning his smile. The moment she left, Jude turned his eyes back to me.

"You've worked with Avalanche before – so you've told me. So this next job should be real easy for you. One of my more generous customers is paying big for the head of Avalanche to be taken out," he said softly, pushing a photograph face-down across the table.

"The leader of Avalanche?" A tiny shock went through my spine. _I_ was the last known leader of Avalanche.

"Yeah, apparently somebody didn't appreciate all those little explosion stunts those guys pulled a few years back. But it ain't none of your business why or who, all you gotta do is fill the order. And since you've worked in Avalanche before as a mercenary, I figured you'd be best for the job," Jude stated plainly, folding his hands around the steaming mug on the table.

I flipped over the picture. And the most beautiful woman in the world stared back at me. My throat tightened.

"No. No, you're wrong," I tried to keep my voice steady, "That's not the leader of Avalanche." If anything, I had been expecting Barret's photo to be scowling up at me. Not _her._

"Sources say otherwise. The customer specified _this_ woman as the leader, and is paying for _this_ woman to be dead. Understand?" Jude took a sip of his coffee, his eyes glaring at me over the rim of the cup.

"Your sources are wrong. She's...she's not the leader. In fact, Avalanche is pretty much dead, so whatever-"

"Look," Jude cut me off with a growl, "I don't give a fuck what you think. I pay you to complete business transactions that my customers pay for. You don't ask questions. You don't move a fucking muscle unless I make the call. And if you don't want this job, that's fine with me because I've got a dozen other guys itching for some cash, lined up, just waiting for my word."

He leaned closer, his eyes narrow slits, his jaw tensed.

"Understood?" he whispered menacingly.

Tifa's picture smiled happily up at me. The photo was black and white, a surveillance shot, no less. Someone was watching her. And someone wanted her dead.

"So what is it gonna be? You want this job or shall I call someone else?" Jude leaned back in his seat, and resumed drinking his coffee.

"I..." My eyes hungrily panned down at her photo once more. If I said no, he would no doubt send another assassin to her. I had to warn her. This wasn't just about some silly grudge anymore. Her life was in danger.

"Well?"

"I can do it. Just... just leave it to me," I pushed the words out with a fake smile.

"Good. Oh and here's the payment for that other job from a day ago," Jude said dismissively and handed me a thick envelope, "An early payday as a token of my gratitude for being one of my best. I expect you'll be leaving for Edge ASAP."

"Right." My obvious cue to leave.

As I left the café with the wad of cash safely in my pocket, the world outside felt thin and unreal. My mind surged with clarity as if just awaking from the deep trenches of a dream. Colors were more vibrant, the sea closer, and that thin line of the horizon over the waves was suddenly tangible. Urgency and dread filled everything. This was too important to stand back and do nothing.

I had to get back to her. I had to know that she was alright.


	4. Hindrance: Back in Edge

- Hindrance -

* * *

Night had fallen on Edge. Only a year had passed, yet it had changed so much. Amazing what time can do to a place. It was starting to look like a real city, no longer a makeshift hub of disjointed ruins and residences. The decayed remnants of Midgar were almost fully cleared away or rebuilt, even the streets were smoothly repaved and entirely new districts had emerged, expanding the whole city outward in a bizarre metallic semi-circle, awfully reminiscent of the old Sectors. 

With a deep sigh and a bit of reluctance, I moved through the city, recalling the exact location of the last place I had known her to live. Her bar. She would be there, hopefully, and I could warn her about the price on her head, maybe even convince her to move out of the city. Somewhere safe.

The air in Edge was colder than I remembered, with a chill wind constantly moving through the streets. It was much more crowded as well. Intermittent masses of people bundled under thick coats moved briskly going about their daily routines. Coming back felt strange, as if a piece of my life that had been put on hold was suddenly playing again, absolutely separate from my life in Junon. And what of Tifa?

In the distance, the skeletal pieces of the old ShinRa building from the center of Midgar proved to be the only reminder of the past, no doubt preserved by ShinRa in some sort of tribute to itself. Finding the bar wasn't as difficult as I had hoped. Still on the exact same corner on the exact same street, it hadn't changed in the slightest except for the addition of a tacky yellow neon 'open' sign hanging in the window. The street was lined with parked cars on either side, obvious patrons of the bar, so I parked my bike right on the sidewalk against the brick building. Inanely debating between taking my katana with me or not, I managed to prolong the inevitable for just a few seconds more.

Deciding not to bring a weapon along, I brought myself to the entry, the hideous neon sign buzzing irritatingly close by, but sudden apprehension stopped me cold. Muffled sounds of excited voices engaged in happy chatter, the low beat of a jukebox, and the warm clinking of glasses resonated through the door. This was what I left behind, but not by choice. Swallowing my fears, I pushed open the door carefully.

Within the thin smoky atmosphere, dozens of customers sat at countless tables, throwing back glass mugs filled with beer or gracefully sipping from martini glasses. The noise from a multitude of conversations and laughter nearly droned out the music playing from the speakers. My eyes sifted through the mess, looking for her.

Nobody paid me any attention, and I slowly pushed through the drunkards and the frowning batch of designated drivers towards the bar counter. Much to my surprise, Yuffie was tending to one of the tables, dressed in a waitress' uniform, engaged deeply in a conversation with a rather inebriated man. I spotted Johnny, one of Tifa's many admirers, also waiting on tables, rushing past with a tray full of booze. I guess he gave up on owning his own bar.

And there she was. Behind the bar counter with her back to the customers, counting through rows of cash next to the register along the back wall. Her hair was longer than I remembered, trailing past the middle of her back like a long dark ribbon of silk. I breathed out softly, hardly aware that I had been holding my breath the entire time, and took a seat at the bar directly behind her.

She didn't move, or even acknowledge my presence in the slightest, but simply continued counting the bills in her hand. I was starting to think she might've not noticed me at all.

"What can I get for you?" she asked lifelessly, without turning around.

"Give me something hard," I responded.

Her body froze, the cash falling from her hands. Stiffly, she turned around, her mouth a tight line, her eyes thin with a ferocity I'd only seen one other time. Our eyes met and she inhaled sharply.

"You," she breathed out and inched backward, grasping the edge of the back counter without looking away from me.

"Tifa," I said softly.

Time had melted away, the sounds of the bar behind us fading into nothingness. I wanted to capture the moment, contain it within me forever. Her lips parted slightly, dark ruby eyes softening under delicate lashes, her body quivering.

"I need to tell you-" I began breathlessly, sorting out my original intentions in my head.

"Get out," she cut me off immediately, closing her eyes and turning to the side, crossing her arms over her chest.

"...Tifa, let me explain," I continued, pleading.

She frowned disdainfully, walking around the end of the counter slowly.

"You're not welcome here," she said mechanically, as if I were just another drunk, a nuisance. I had hardly expected her cooperation but this hostility was unwarranted.

"Please, give me a minute to tell you why I've come back," I found myself begging.

Her lips pushed outward slightly, and her knuckles whitened as she grasped her arms tighter, her stance defiant. She shook her head, eyes still averted from me. The light smell of her perfume rolled back a heavy chain of memories.

"I ... I can't talk to you. Just go," her voice was quieter, less hostile.

Her shoulders sagged just a bit as she stared at the door, obviously expressing her desire for me to leave.

"This is important," I stressed, then added after a second's pause, "It's not about us."

"Cloud...I..." Her warm voice broke apart then her posture stiffened, and she continued coldly, "You need to leave."

"I'm not leaving."

Body motionless as a statue, she remained staring fixedly at the door, blinking rapidly, arms still folded over her chest. The noise in the bar hadn't ceased, but nothing else mattered to me suddenly. I touched the edge of her arm with my fingertips. Hardly a trace of warmth had passed between the slight contact when she spun towards me, teeth clenched and eyes wide. Her hand immediately flew up, smacking my own away.

"Don't touch me, Cloud!" she shouted angrily.

A sudden drop in the overall noise level demonstrated the unwanted attention we were now receiving. Several nearby customers were staring dumbfounded at us, while others had merely glanced our way in faint interest. Yuffie stood out among them all, her mouth gaping in shock, thin white fingers at her temple.

"Can we talk somewhere more... private?" I muttered to Tifa.

The muscles in her jaw tensed and she sighed.

"Yuffie, watch the bar while I deal with this," she called across the room.

"Yeah, sure, Tif. No prob..." Yuffie responded vacantly, eyes fixed on me.

Tifa viciously grabbed my sleeve and pulled me around the back, through a few groups of happy patrons, up the stairs and into her office. Slamming the door behind me, she resumed her stoic disposition. A long silence held the air. I wasn't sure how to proceed. I'd tried so hard not to think of her since I left that I hardly knew what to say now that I was near to her again. Adrenaline was rushing fast through me, my hands practically numb.

"Well?" she huffed.

"I was sent here to kill you," I said bluntly.

A single cynical laugh answered me, and then she stated in a flat tone of indifference, "You're not going to."

"Of course not."

Her head turned a bit to the side, eyes still downcast. "But..." she trailed off.

"Tifa, someone out there wants you dead. I don't know who or why, but I received orders to kill the leader of Avalanche, who apparently is you."

"Avalanche. It's been years since Avalanche." Her arms dropped to her sides, her voice much softer.

"I know. But that doesn't mean they won't send others after you."

"You're an... assassin?" she asked, and suddenly turned to face me.

Her eyes met mine once more and I was filled with remarkable ecstasy.

"Yes," I said, feeling rather uncomfortable suddenly.

"So you came back... to protect me."

"...Yes."

She held my gaze, and I wanted nothing more than to reach out and embrace her.

"I...I can take care of myself. I don't need anyone watching over me," she said the words, but her body moved closer to mine.

"If you really want me to leave, I will. I just wanted to warn you... and to see if you were alright," I insisted, trying to convince myself as well. I wanted more than that.

"Well, I am alright. So..." she stated loudly.

"_Are_ you alright?" I stepped forward, closer to her.

"Yeah. So you can just leave," she nodded, fluttering her eyelashes.

I stayed motionless, my skin growing hot. I couldn't believe she wanted nothing to do with me. With her head deliberately pointed away from my direction, she placed her hands on her hips and cleared her throat. I exhaled, waiting for her to say something more, but she did not. It was obvious now that I had hurt her far beyond any repair.

"I... I had this coming, Tif. I understand. Just please take care of yourself," I said sadly, and moved soundlessly towards the door.

"Your sword," she said clearly the moment my hand reached for the doorknob. I paused, looking back at her, but she hadn't moved.

"What about it?"

"Take it with you. You left it in my room. I don't want it." The words were succinct, stabbing.

"...Fine." I didn't particularly want it either. I had left it there purposefully, because I didn't want any piece of my old self with me. But it would give me more time with her.

The door to her bedroom was directly next to the office. Apprehension clenched my heart when I entered. The room was so tidy and clean, vacant of everything except the necessities. Simplicity was always one of Tifa's finer traits. But I used to sleep in here, too. Naturally, all of my things were gone. Except the massive six-bladed sword, sheathed, propped in the corner of the far wall near the bed, just as I had left it. Dust coated the top of the hilt. Why had she kept it?

Tifa remained in the doorway, glaring downward, arms crossed again, while I slowly advanced towards my old weapon. I picked it up in one simple gesture, twisting my hand around the hilt and lifting the weight effortlessly.

"Hmm. Just the same," I mumbled to myself.

Somehow, I had expected the weapon to be heavier or different in some way. But it remained unchanged regardless of the time that's passed. It felt perfect, natural, a familiar piece of me. I couldn't help but smile. I glanced back at Tifa, hoping she would share some sentiment of my little reunion, but she was still in the doorway making every point not to look at me.

"Guess I'll be going, then," I said indifferently to nobody in particular since it was clear she didn't want to listen.

I didn't want to leave, but I was unwelcome. That much was certain. Wasting as much time as reasonably possible, I slowly walked towards the doorway with heavy steps. Tifa still didn't move, and her body was directly blocking the path through the office, the only exit from her bedroom. I stopped next to her, expecting her to slide out of the way without so much as a final word to me. Still she did not move. The tension was more than uncomfortable, I could hardly bear being near her anymore. I wanted to grab her and kiss her, but since I could do neither, I wanted to leave her presence. This cold poisonous Tifa was not the way I wanted to remember her.

With no other choice, I reached out and gently grasped her shoulder with intentions of harmlessly moving her to the side, which would allow me to leave without disrupting her firm stance. My palm was hardly pressed against her shoulder when she suddenly came to life.

Bending to the slight pressure from my arm, she twisted towards me, pushing me back into the bedroom. Closing the door quickly behind her, she suddenly fell into my arms, forcing my back to the wall. The sword fell from my hand onto the floor with a muted clatter.

Immediately, we were kissing, as if all the time in the world had stopped, as if the last year had never happened. Wrapping my arms around her body, she felt thinner than she used to, lighter too. But she was still strong, holding me against the wall, feverishly moving her lips over mine.

The faint sounds of the bar were fading away, and I became lost in that moment. She tasted sweet, familiar. I loved her more than anything. And I knew what she liked.

With a surge of power, I gripped her arms firmly and twisted her around me, pinning her to the wall. She yielded and my body was tight against hers, our mouths still together, our fingers interlaced. Kissing her deeper, I moved one hand down, trailing along her thigh, sliding up her miniskirt.

Suddenly, she paused and I felt the muscles in her arms tense all at once. She threw me off with astounding force, and sent me reeling backwards a few steps, completely confused.

"Don't!" she gasped, catching her breath.

"What's wrong?" I responded immediately, worried that I had hurt her.

"This...THIS is exactly why I wanted you to leave!" she shouted, brushing back the reckless strands of hair tussled from our brief encounter.

"...I'm sorry...I..." I just wanted to be with her.

"You always do this to me. You make me feel... weak!"

"I thought you liked when I held you like that!" I countered defensively.

"No, no, no, I don't mean the physical part. I mean, you always make me feel weak...helpless...I can't control myself when I'm around you," she said rapidly, then sighed with frustration.

"I didn't mean to...I..."

"I can't have you around, Cloud," she interrupted and shut her eyes a second, "Whenever you're near me, I become this... helpless creature, constantly worrying about you and thinking about you. My self-control... just..." she paused, smoothing her hair. Once more, her eyes became averted from me. My chest felt heavy as I thought I had done something horribly wrong.

"I don't understand," I said at length.

"I need to be strong," her voice was quiet and cold, "Strong. But whenever you're around...I just lose it. Like just now. I couldn't help myself. I hate feeling like that."

"But why is that bad? We both wanted it!" I insisted.

"Because I don't_ want_ to be weak! I don't _want_ to lose control! And I don't want to be near you!" she shouted, anger cutting in her voice.

"Tif..." I held my hand out to her, trying to be comforting, but she batted it away.

"Please go now," she said very quietly after a long pause.

I had prepared the words in my head, and knew that I had to reach her somehow, make her understand my intentions. With a deep breath, I began.

"No matter what has happened between us, now or any other night in the past, I still came here for one reason. And it wasn't to reconcile with you. I know you want nothing to do with me and that's fine. But there's something more going on out there," I said evenly.

She didn't even flinch.

"I told you before I was sent here to kill you and that's not a joke," I continued, "I decided well before I came back here that I would make sure nothing bad happens to you. Tif, I know most of the other assassins my boss would send, and some of them are desperate mako junkies who would kill you in a heartbeat."

"You seem to underestimate me, Cloud," she replied icily.

"I would never. I know your fighting abilities, and you're one of the greatest martial artists in the world, but these guys are sick. Real sick. Sure, you can best me in combat any day, but what good are fists against someone who would poison you or shoot you in the back with a bullet? Tif, the threat is real and I can't rest easy knowing you're in danger," I pressed each word forward hastily, knowing my time with her would be limited unless she listened to my reasoning.

My words were working, chiseling away at her stony façade.

"So what exactly do you want?" she said flatly at last.

"Let me stay here with you. At least until I can figure out who is paying to get you killed."

"And how exactly would you protect me if one of these other hitmen comes along?"

I hadn't explicitly thought of that. I just sort of assumed I would be able to deal with anyone.

"It couldn't hurt to have me around." I shrugged.

The piercing look she gave me indicated that I had said the wrong thing.

"Please," I went on, unrelenting, "I don't know what I'd do if I walked out that door tonight only to hear about you dead a week from now. I can't have another death rest on my conscience. And you know that."

She truly looked torn. A long tense moment of silence followed. I was nearly ready to give up and just leave, when she suddenly nodded. The muscles in her jaw were tensed and her eyes were bent downward with sorrow, but she nodded.

"Fine. But you're not sleeping in here. You can sleep on the couch in the office." Her words were barely audible.

"Thanks, Tif. I...I mean it. I'll try not to ...make you do anything you don't want to." I bent over and retrieved my sword from where it had fallen.

While my words still lingered, I opened the door of her bedroom and slipped out quickly, shutting it behind me. I stood in the office, the noise from the bar much louder now, and gazed at the slumping couch along the far wall, exhaling loudly. My heart had been beating so quickly that my whole chest felt constricted. The cool air in the office was a relief from the tension of Tifa's bedroom. Funny how I had been in plenty of stranger's homes and killed them without a second thought, yet my own former home brought an enormous amount of nervousness. There was no reason for me to feel anxious, given that I wasn't going to kill anyone or be in any danger. But Tifa easily made me tremble. The only woman that ever really could.

There was a faint crashing sound from below followed by a sudden dash of light footsteps on the stairs. Yuffie appeared in the office doorway a second later. She halted instantly when she saw me.

"Cloud... Uh, hi!" she exclaimed awkwardly, one hand behind her head, the other waving tensely.

"Hi Yuffie..." I mimicked her tiny wave.

"Soooo...Where ya been?" She tried a smile.

"Junon." I placed my sword in the corner next to the couch, dusting it off first.

"Oh. I see. Well, nice seeing you back and all. ...Where's Tifa?"

I motioned towards the door of her bedroom. Yuffie briskly walked over to it and knocked.

"Tif, I need you downstairs, pronto!" she yelled through the door, eyes warily stuck on me.

Tifa came out, more fully composed, hands pressing the wrinkles from her skirt.

"Sure thing, Yuf," Tifa said politely after an exhausted sigh.

"Where are the kids?" I interjected abruptly. Both women looked at me as if shocked that I could speak.

"...Marlene is with Elmyra and Denzel is staying at a friend's house tonight. You'll see him tomorrow," Tifa said to me robotically.

After they both disappeared downstairs, I sat in silence for a few moments, trying to decide my next course of action. I hadn't exactly planned anything else out, aside from getting to Tifa. Truthfully, I didn't know what to expect and was hoping she would be more ...cooperating. But there was one other thing I had to do.

Flipping open my phone, I dialed Jude's number. I would just tell him Tifa was dead, and hopefully that would buy me more time to discover who had ordered the attack on her. Of course, I never had access to customer identities, and Jude would never give me a customer's name. In fact, staying as far away from Jude as possible was optimal. In my opinion, he was just another Rufus Shinra except far more sadistic.

Expecting to leave a voicemail, I was speechless when I heard someone on the other line answer.

"What?" the usual gruff voice responded.

"Uh...It's Cloud."

"I know. What do you want?"

"The order has been filled."

"...That soon?" He took a long drag on his cigarette.

"Yes. Like you said, it helped that I've worked with Avalanche before."

"Right, of course."

"I'll be by next payday."

"Good. I'll inform you of any new jobs."

He hung up and I exhaled, relieved that he didn't suspect anything. Now that he thought Tifa was dead, he would relay that to the customer. And no doubt, he would later discover she was indeed not dead and that's when things would get ugly. But I still had some time before that happened. At least a few days. Doing it this way would ensure the most time possible until that happened, I hoped.

The couch creaked under my weight when I sat down, anxiety filling my bones. Without hesitation, I retrieved the mako from my pocket and swallowed another pill. That leaves only one left. I'd have to find a dealer in Edge tomorrow.

Naturally, my thoughts kept wandering back to Tifa as the drug-induced calmness forced itself through my veins.


	5. Not as I Remember

- Not as I Remember -

* * *

I was staring out the window, admiring the glow of the city lights when she returned. The bar was closed and she was carrying the cash box into the office. She dropped it onto the desk and sunk heavily into the leather chair, leaning back with her hands over her eyes. Overstressed, no doubt. I had been thinking about her nonstop for the last two hours, the most I ever had since leaving her the first time. 

"There's no view of the ocean from here," I noted.

"Of course not. We're in the middle of the city," she muttered, annoyed.

"Come back to Junon with me," I said suddenly, "You'd be safer there and I can take you to a little café on the upper tier where you can watch the most beautiful sunsets on the sea."

"And do what for money, exactly? Become some hired assassin, like you?"

"Well, no, I'm sure there's-"

"You want me to just drop what I'm doing here, close up the bar and its revenues, abandon Denzel, and live some fairytale existence with you over in Junon?" she scoffed, "Hah. It's not that simple."

"It is that simple. Just come back with me!"

She laughed dryly and rolled her head to the side, massaging her neck.

"Unlike you, Cloud, some people stand by their responsibilities, no matter how strenuous," she swiveled the chair a bit to glare at me, "Not everyone runs."

"Don't forget. You asked me to leave," I retorted.

Another uncomfortable silence. Her chin drifted lower as she slumped deeper into the chair, one arm lazily propping her head up.

"Because you remind me of it. Of everything. And I can't grow as a person, can't be as optimistic as I'd like, with you around," she spoke so quietly, I had to edge forwards to hear her fully. She closed her eyes, mumbling, "I've tried. I've tried so hard with you."

"What do you mean?" I asked cautiously.

Eyes still closed, she sighed and rubbed her neck again.

"There's only so much one person can take, Cloud. I was so ...different when we were together. You had done something to me, changed me. I lost my clarity, my control. I was suddenly irrational and short-tempered. I needed you, yet I had never needed anyone before in my life. It made me sick, sick that I was becoming physically and emotionally dependent on another person. I didn't recognize myself. Every time we made love, I became someone else. Someone who shouldn't be me. Does that make sense?"

It was evident she had been planning this conversation for some time, but her little speech was disjointed and confusing. I wasn't sure exactly what I had done to her. Still, her words struck me deep. Of course I could relate to the total loss of identity. It was painful, crushing, frightening to think of another consciousness inside of you. Or in my case, another living thing entirely.

"Yes, it makes sense." I nodded quickly.

"And now you're back. So you can imagine how that makes me feel," she paused, suddenly sitting up straight and stretching sleepily, "So I apologize for the way I acted earlier."

"You don't need to apologize for anything. On that last night before you asked me to leave, well, I never meant to hurt you as badly as I did." It felt good to talk about it finally.

"That's when I knew things were falling out of my control. We were too... lethal for one another."

I questioned her choice of words, but decided against verbalizing my sentiments. She stood up and went to her bedroom, returning moments later with a spare blanket and pillow. Stepping next to me, no less than arm's length away, she threw the items carelessly on the couch.

"You're still not exactly welcome here," she said bluntly, "...but I ... I want you to know that I appreciate you coming back, even if it is only because you think my life is being threatened."

"I love you, Tif." The words simply sprung from my lips.

I used to say it to her every night, and tonight was no different.

A trace of a smile darted across her face before she hastily tightened her mouth into a frown.

"Goodnight, Cloud." A calmly distant response devoid of emotion.

She retreated into the bedroom, shutting the door. For the first time in a long time, a tender strain of happiness pulled itself through me, much too potent to be mako-induced. Trying not to dwell on the situation with Tifa, I shook my head to clear the haze and shut off the light, settling down on the couch. Focused on the possibility of other assassins heading towards me, I went through every one I knew in my head, one by one, analyzing their flaws.

I tried constructing every possible scenario in my mind, exploring ways I would slaughter whoever tried to hurt her. Slowly, my eyes closed and the falling sensation overtook me, leading me into a dreamless suspension. Time drifted forward.

* * *

Something woke me. But I wasn't sure what. 

Night hadn't passed, and I couldn't have been asleep for very long, but my body jolted awake nevertheless. Completely alert, I listened carefully. Amid the usual dead sounds of night, light footsteps creaked up the staircase, leading directly to the office. My heartbeat quickened and I moved soundlessly from the couch to the wall behind the door. Keeping my breathing even and silent, I waited, my hands ready to snap the neck of anyone who entered.

A thin metallic click chased the silence as the doorknob rotated very gently, and the door opened just barely wide enough for a thin figure to sneak through. The person immediately flicked on the light switch and my eyes burned momentarily in the sudden brightness.

"Ah! C-C-Cloud!" Denzel's surprised voice yelped.

He stood frozen in shock, his backpack discarded on the desk. I relaxed, relieved though slightly angry that I had been so careless. I had come very close to killing him.

"Denzel... What are you doing home so late?" I breathed out, feeling the adrenaline settle.

It took him several seconds to recover because apparently I had scared the hell out of him. After a few gasps, he steadied himself.

"I didn't know you were back. Why ... why are you back?" Disdain permeated every syllable.

I ignored his question, more concerned with his whereabouts.

"Tifa told me you were staying at a friend's house for the night. Why are you coming home so late?" I questioned.

This only elicited a laugh of disbelief from him.

"I don't have to answer to you," he said viciously.

He was older now, of course. Must be near thirteen. But I wasn't about to let him leave without an explanation.

"So did you lie to Tifa?" I continued without faltering.

"No. No, I don't lie."

"Then where were you?"

His eyes stayed firmly on the floor as he fumbled with his backpack, which I now saw was stuffed with a change of clothes. He seemed to be looking for something.

"I _was _at a friend's house... but... but his dad kicked me out," Denzel eventually muttered.

"Kicked you out? What for?" I couldn't possibly imagine a reason why.

"I don't have to tell you a damn thing!" he hissed suddenly, throwing his bag down, "Tifa told me everything about you! She said you're sick in the head!"

His eyes glared up at me for a single second. A dim luminescent blue...

"Denzel, look at me," I demanded, a bizarre fear twisting through me.

"No! You can't order me around! You're not my dad! You're _nobody_!" he raised his voice defiantly.

"Look at me, now!" I instructed once more.

Jaw jutted forward, tears of reluctance and fear glistening in his eyes, he gazed up at me hatefully. Clear blue shone softly, glowing like my own. A sharp pang of disappointment and guilt hit me.

"How long have you been using mako?" I asked instantly, trying hard to keep my tone steady.

Immediately he stared down at the floor again, shoulders tensed.

"Denzel... Answer me."

"Don't tell Tifa..." he whimpered.

"How long, Denzel?" I repeated sharply.

"A few weeks...maybe a month, I don't know," his voice was small, defeated.

"Do you have any on you now?"

He nodded.

"Give it to me."

Pulling open his backpack, he reached to the bottom and retrieved a tiny plastic bag filled halfway with greenish powder. I shut my eyes to try and block the immediate anger rushing to my head.

"Why... Why did you start?" I asked calmly, a crushing weight on my chest.

Head still down, he squeezed his eyes shut, obviously upset that he had been caught.

"I don't know. I don't see what the big deal is about it. You have Mako from Soldier and all, so I didn't think it was that bad," he said quietly.

"Listen to me. Very carefully," I took a deep breath, still struck by the realization that a child was doing this, "This isn't Mako. It may be called 'mako' but its not. I don't know what it is, but it's not safe, especially the kind that you were doing."

"I'm sorry..." he mumbled pitifully.

"I'm not going to tell Tifa, this time," I said, closing my fist around the mako he handed me, "But I want you to promise me you won't do it anymore. And if I ever catch your eyes filled with mako again, I _am_ going to tell her. And if she doesn't kill you, then I will."

Denzel nodded sadly, hands locked complacently together, feet glued in place.

"Now get to bed," I told him sternly.

Grabbing his backpack, he ran over to the door across the office, opposite of Tifa's bedroom, but stopped just before he entered. His shiny eyes looked back to me.

"But... why did you come back...?" he asked, his tone now absent of any malice.

"Just get some sleep. I'll tell you in the morning," I replied, still suppressing my anger.

Without reply, he slipped into his room. Once the door closed, I sighed exhaustedly, deeply disturbed by the event that had just transpired. It never occurred to me that kids would be using mako, especially a good kid like Denzel. Sure, he wasn't blood, but that didn't matter. I had still taken care of him for some years and felt responsible for his actions.

Lying on my pillow, it dawned on me that coming back didn't only mean confronting Tifa, but also reintegrating into the mess of a family life. Of course, I wouldn't be staying. I would simply find out who wanted her dead, kill the bastard, and go back to Junon. Easy as that.

But it was difficult to fall back asleep.


	6. Falling, Dreaming

- Falling, Dreaming -

* * *

Waking up several times throughout the night offered me no real sleep at all and by the time the bluish morning light was creeping through the window, I decided to simply stop trying. I went downstairs to make a pot of coffee and swallowed the last mako pill I had. The stillness of dawn distracted me like a dull buzzing in my head, but before long Tifa entered the kitchen, hidden beneath layers of sleepiness. She seemed to have forgotten that I was around, because her eyes widened for a second when she spotted me. But she immediately relaxed. 

"I thought you'd still be asleep," she said nonchalantly, and brushed past me, reaching for a loaf of bread.

"The couch wasn't as comfortable as I remembered it," I replied.

Denzel's late night excursion surfaced in my memory. But I decided against informing her.

A phone rang, slicing through the morning silence. My phone. Who the hell...? Weightlessness clutched my stomach when I saw the caller's number. Jude. He never called me directly. Never. I was always the one to contact him.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" Tifa asked, irritated.

Her voice snapped me free of the strange horror gripping my throat. Reluctantly, I answered.

"Hello...?"

"I got some disturbing news this morning," his low voice said immediately.

I bit my lip and faced away from Tifa, saying nothing into the phone.

He went on tersely, "Would you mind clarifying for me what exactly you meant when you called me last night?"

"I meant what I said. The job is done," I muttered.

"Really? Hmm. Where are you?" The pleasant tone in his voice was completely unsettling.

"I'm ... at my house."

"No. You're not._ I'm_ at your house. That means _you're_ still in Edge."

My heart beat quickened, and fear spread outward, hot, from the base of my skull down my spine. My mouth went dry.

"Did you ever hear about what happened to that Wutain fellow who thought himself clever enough to lie to me?" Jude continued amiably, "I'm sure you have."

Yes, of course I had. Who hasn't? He was found with his fingernails removed and several discs of his spinal column torn out. Skin and muscles had also been stripped from only one arm, the bones of all fingers broken in three spots each. The medical report on the news refused to specify any more 'gruesome details' than that.

"I really don't like liars," Jude went on, and I could hear him smiling, "So I'll ask you again to clarify your words to me last night."

"I... I-"

"Clarify. Please. I implore you," he snarled suddenly.

"Like I said, the job is done..."

"Oh, that's a shame!" he shouted, "That's really a shame, because my sources have informed me this morning that the job is NOT done and that you, in fact, have LIED to me."

"Wait-" How the hell could he have known so soon? Hardly seven hours had passed!

"And I'm afraid I don't handle liars very well. You see, I only expect one thing from my business associates and that's honesty. But when one of them isn't honest with me, well... then, I don't see any reason to keep them in my employment. In fact, I don't see any reason for them in this world at all."

"I didn't lie to you!" I insisted.

Tifa stopped making breakfast and glanced over at me.

"Did you really think you would get away with this? Lying just so you could get paid without completing a job?!" Jude was no longer restraining his fury, the grainy voice shouting loudly.

"It wasn't about the money-" I tried to explain.

"I don't give a damn what your reasons are! I've got enough people in every corner of every city on the planet to make sure you never rest easy again," he growled, pausing to take an audible drag from his cigarette, "Because there is only one thing that can satisfy me when I've been burned and that's blood."

I hung up on him the second that word escaped his lips. Blood. I was a dead man, staring dumbly at my phone wishing what had just happened wasn't real. Jude had an operative in Edge, that much I knew now, but the speed at which he received information regarding Tifa's state was unnatural, at best. There was very little I truly knew about the extent of Jude's influence.

"What was that about?" Tifa asked with a groan.

"We're not safe here," I blurted out, my senses heightened with paranoia.

"What do you mean 'we'? What have you brought upon me? I was perfectly fine yesterday before you showed up," she fought.

"Listen, Tif, I was sent to kill you and I didn't kill you. People who accept jobs and never follow through usually don't live very long," I told her grimly.

"Why would you even accept that sort of job in the first place?" she continued, her tone flat, uninterested.

"Because if I didn't, there would be someone else doing it for me, right now."

"So you've... marked yourself for death alongside me?"

"...I guess."

"Cloud, that's the stupidest thing you've ever done," she scolded, placing her hands on her hips.

"Maybe, but that doesn't change a damn thing. We've got to get out of here," I insisted.

"I'm not going anywhere." She turned her attention back on breakfast, buttering a piece of toast.

"Then I'll just have to take you..."

Tifa glanced viciously at me, her mouth open, ready to make a biting remark when her eyes trailed to the doorway, and she paused, her lips ceding into a smile. Denzel had just entered the kitchen, and his eyes were once more his own shade of deep blue, no hint of mako present. He did not look at me, and sleepily opened the cupboard, retrieving a box of cereal.

"Morning, Denzel," Tifa said pleasantly, pouring herself a cup of the freshly brewed coffee, "I'm surprised to see you awake this early. And when exactly did you get home from Martin's house? I thought you said you were staying the whole night."

"Uh, well," Denzel hesitated, shuffling his feet on the linoleum flooring, "I came home last night. It was a bit late, so you were asleep."

"Ah. Then you must've seen Cloud last night and already said your hello to him," she said, looking at me.

"Yeah. Uh... Hiya Cloud," he said softly, still refusing to meet my gaze. It was clear he was uncomfortable, possibly terrified that Tifa would find out about the mako, so he was pretending nothing had happened. Hopefully I had scared him enough to make him never pick up that stuff again, but I was doubtful of my authority in his life.

"Hi Denzel. How's school going?" I asked calmly, inwardly terrified that one of Jude's people would suddenly materialize.

"It's fine... Uh, so where have you been, Cloud?" Denzel asked innocently, a spoonful of cereal in his mouth.

"Junon." The answer was short and automatic because I knew we had to get out of the bar soon. Whoever Jude's informant in Edge was, he would no doubt be watching this place.

A loud knocking on the front door completely shattered me and I jumped at the sound. Denzel hardly glanced up and Tifa put down her mug, walking softly towards it.

"No!" I whispered loudly to her, "Don't answer it!"

She gave me a bemused look.

"It's probably Yuffie. Her hot water went out two days ago, so she's been coming over here in the mornings until it's fixed," Tifa said, as if it were obvious.

"Let me answer it."

But Tifa was already unlocking the bolt. She swung open the door and I dashed forward, ready to pull her out of harm's way, all muscles tensed for the worst.

Yuffie bounced in, wearing a puffy winter coat; white flecks of snow dotted her black hair. Cold air gusted in behind her as she slammed the door shut.

"Oh, it's freezing out there!" she huffed, shaking her hands together under her chin, "Another cold one. Oh... Hi there Cloud. What's gotten into you?"

My arm was awkwardly stretched out towards Tifa, my other hand somehow reaching for the space on my back where the hilt of my sword usually is, except there was of course nothing there, so I only succeeded in looking like some ridiculous statue posing not unlike a runner in a marathon. Immediately, I relaxed, casually resting my hands behind my head as if I had planned looking that stupid.

"Nothing, I was just... worried that it was someone else," I said truthfully.

"Who else would come by here this early? And anyways, Cloud, you have some explaining to do," Yuffie pushed further into the bar, one finger pointed intrusively at my chest, "You need to tell us all about where you vanished off to! And more importantly, why!"

Tifa's face became pallid because only she and I would ever know why I had really left. Nobody else.

"I can't answer anything because right now, Tifa and I are leaving," I said.

"What?" Yuffie exclaimed.

"I'm not going anywhere!" Tifa shouted.

"Wait, wait, what are you talking about? Go where?" Yuffie chimed in, "Can I come?"

"Someone is after Tifa and me, so we have to leave, very soon. If we stay here, it will be dangerous for Denzel... and you," I told Yuffie.

"No way! It would be more dangerous _not_ to take me. After all, you're looking at the greatest, most feared ninja on this side of the planet!" she boasted, arching her brows.

"No, you need to take Denzel over to Elmyra's in Kalm. He'll be safe there. This whole place is going to be crawling with trouble in a matter of hours." I winced, thinking of all the rumors I'd heard about Jude's wrath.

"Cloud... you're crazy," Tifa snapped, arms defiantly on her hips, "I'm not going anywhere. Denzel's not going and Yuffie is... well, Yuffie can do whatever she wants, but the point is, you're not taking me anywhere."

"What have you done this time, Cloud?" Yuffie sighed and rolled her eyes, mimicking Tifa's body language.

"I can't tell you," I said, frustrated and obviously losing the argument of persuasion.

"Ooooh, secret stuff. You can tell me! I won't tell a soul, I swear." Yuffie grinned and leaned closer to me.

"It's not that I don't trust you, it's just... personal."

"Hmm. Ok, fine, whatever. Don't tell me," she said curtly with a shrug, and marched unceremoniously towards the stairs. "I'll be in the shower. Just don't leave without me!" she called back before disappearing down the hall.

Attention once more on Tifa, I strained to find the words that could penetrate her icy glare.

"I hope you were kidding about leaving," she eventually said.

"I'm not. Come on, get your things. We're going." I started walking back into the kitchen, but she didn't follow. Exasperated, I faced her with my arms spread apart in a plea, "Tifa, what will it take for you to forget about whatever's between us and just trust me?"

"This is about your promise, isn't it? The one on the well over a decade ago? I don't need you to come and rescue me anymore, Cloud," she said sadly, her voice heavy with decisiveness.

At least it was her that said it, and not me. I never made promises anymore, and the few I had made in the past I clung to like glue, vowing not to break them at all costs. But there was more to it than that. Coming back here taught me one thing, if nothing else – I was hopelessly still in love with her.

"Yes," I responded, "It is. So can I please maintain that promise and keep you safely out of this place until I can figure out who is behind it all?"

"Determined, as always. Loyal, too," she said gently, almost mockingly, "Those are your strong points, but also can be your weak ones. You never did learn to let go."

Her round eyes fell on mine, a dead stare. Truth.

"No, I suppose I didn't."

We held one another's gaze several moments more, in silence. The background noise of water running upstairs and Denzel moving about the kitchen was insignificant. She was examining me, scrutinizing my reasons, possibly evaluating her own feelings for me - what I knew had to still exist because I felt so connected to her.

"Perhaps in the end, it doesn't matter," she said firmly, her eyes never leaving mine.

"No, it doesn't," the answer felt pulled from me.

"Let me tell Denzel what's going on, and inform Yuffie of her new job as baby-sitter, then I'll leave with you," Tifa explained, at last breaking eye contact, allowing me to breathe.

She departed into the kitchen and I retreated upstairs to get my sword. How easy it was to transform. Yesterday morning I had been a hired assassin living in Junon, killing for money with hardly a thought of her in my head, and today I was a wanted man in Edge with her by my side once more. Amazing what time can do to a person. Even the shortest span.


	7. Paper Winter

- Paper Winter -

* * *

The rumors were true about snow in Edge. Outside the cold air was littered with gently drifting snowflakes and the world was eerily still. Jude had known that I lied to him quickly. Too quickly. Whoever his informant was, it had to be someone very close by – someone Tifa wouldn't hesitate talking to. Someone she saw everyday, even.

"Tifa, I need the names of your regular customers," I said once we were near my bike.

"Why?" She shot a wary glance at me.

"Because I have to know who told my boss that I lied to him."

Her puzzled look meant I had to explain.

"Look," I went on, "Last night I called my boss and told him that the job was done – that you were dead – in hopes of buying us some more time. I figured that if you were 'dead' then he would close the job, inform the customer, and go about his business for at least a few days. I didn't consider that he had people in Edge - informants, who basically police the assassins to make sure they do what they're told. It's a bit complicated, but the informants are not formally set up – or else every single assassin would have one on their tail. No, they are more or less restricted to certain regions – the place they live, usually – and given access to open jobs, that is, jobs that are being filled in their region. They never directly interact with the assassin on the job."

She was listening intently, so I went on.

"That means that whoever told Jude that you were still alive after last night is someone you know. A regular at your bar, most likely. Someone you wouldn't think twice about seeing. I called my boss _before_ you closed the bar. So during those last two hours of business, somehow someone realized that I had informed my boss the job was over, saw that you were still breathing, and then called him this morning. Tell me. Who did you see last night after you left me alone in the office upstairs?" I asked, while pulling apart the pieces of my sword. The front storage panel on my bike popped open and I retrieved the katana, sheathing it on the back and stowed the six sword parts neatly in their respective slots. Perfect fit, of course.

"I... I don't really remember. There were lots of people in the bar last night," she said slowly, pulling her long wool coat close around her body.

"Did you see anyone get a call or a message on their cell phone, then act strange around you or ask you any questions?" I inquired.

"...Well, Johnny was acting a bit odd. And he did get a text message about half an hour after I came back downstairs. I normally wouldn't have noticed, but the bar was so busy that I couldn't afford to have him or Yuffie doing anything other than helping customers. I ... I scolded him for even having his phone on during work, and he just smiled and put it away. You know how he's always smiling at me, so I thought nothing of it." A troubled expression flashed in her eyes.

"Where does he live?"

"Wait, Cloud, you're not going to kill him, are you?" she exclaimed in disbelief.

"It's my job. I've killed plenty in the past. One more won't hurt," I reasoned, "Besides, if we don't kill the informant in this region, then my boss will know when we leave Edge. I need him to think we're both still in the city for as long as possible."

"Johnny wouldn't know that I've..." she paused, realizing the error of her statement.

"Yes, he would. With you gone, the bar is closed. He would definitely know if we left."

She bowed her head in solemn agreement and sighed.

"Doesn't it bother you how many lives you've taken?" she asked softly.

"No." I revved the engine and looked back at her, patting the seat behind me invitingly.

"You know, sometimes I think about all those deaths we've caused back in Avalanche. I really thought I was doing the right thing, stopping ShinRa for a good cause, and all those lives felt insignificant. But they've caught up to me. It's all caught up to me. People like Denzel's parents wouldn't have been killed. I... I can't believe - now that I look back - I can't believe I actually contributed to a terrorist group like that." Her voice was tiny, distant.

"Tif..." I tried to be understanding, "Nobody blames you for that. I was as much a part of it as you were. Hell, I've done much worse things since then, but don't ever dwell on the past like that. We've all done horrible things."

She laughed a bit, her eyes shimmering, bits of snow caught in her long hair and along her lashes.

"I never thought I'd hear you lecturing me on the past," she said in a somewhat wistful tone and smiled.

"Hey," I returned her smile, "I only say it because that's what you said to me once, remember?"

"Yeah..." She looked down, the smile fading, "Yeah, I do remember."

"Come on. Let's pay Johnny a visit to see if he's our man."

She nodded and sat down behind me, saying his address. It wasn't too far. Fenrir tore through the snowy streets, a blanket of white still fresh on the pavement before the morning commute crushed it into gray slush. Edge had never received snow before this year, so it seemed fair to assume that many people did not leave their homes when it did, judging by the distinct absence of life in the streets. It didn't take long to reach our destination.

Johnny lived in the slums, still. You'd think after all this time he would have managed to move up a bit in society, but some people are just stuck. No matter what. The slums in Edge were horribly reminiscent of the Sector Seven slums, but I suppose people tend to build what they know, and it looked like the entire section of town consisted of scraps from Midgar. ShinRa never did care for its poor, then and now. While the rest of the city thrives, this neighborhood stagnates. I've seen it all before.

"There, that house." Tifa pointed over my shoulder at a disheveled mass of concrete and wood, constructed vaguely into the form of a house.

"Tif, I think you need to raise his salary..." I said back to her, only half-jokingly.

"I pay him just fine! It's not my fault he spends it on all betting on chocobo races!" she cried defensively.

I laughed a little at his sad state of affairs and stopped the bike halfway down the block from Johnny's home.

"I'll knock on the door," Tifa said assertively, "Maybe you won't have to...uh, hurt him if I can talk the information from him."

"People tend to talk more when they are facing death," I replied dryly, then added, "Just saying."

"You know, you've really changed," she said sideways to me as we walked, "It's still you under there, but you're... more intimidating, I guess. So different from that shy boy from Nibelheim."

"Mmm." I couldn't think of a decent reply because the truth was, I was focusing on how I would kill Johnny and what my exact words would be to him.

We reached the front door of his home, the only seemingly solid piece of it. The windows on one side had been plastered over from the inside, and through the dirt covering the other window I could see a light coming from a room in the back.

"You just stay out of sight. Let me handle it, Cloud. He won't lie to me anyway and maybe nobody can get hurt," Tifa instructed me. I leaned back against the façade of the building directly adjacent to the doorway but completely out of sight from whomever answered it. She cleared her throat and knocked three times.

Almost immediately the door inched open.

"Oh! Tifa! What a pleasant surprise! Eh, I wasn't supposed to be at work this early, was I?" Johnny's nervous voice chattered, "Wow, its cold out there. I'd invite you in, but this place is such a mess..."

"That's alright, Johnny. I came by because ... I'm in some trouble and I was wondering if you could help me out," Tifa began carefully.

"S-Sure, Tifa. Anything. I thought I saw Cloud in the bar last night. Is everything alright with you and him?" Johnny asked.

Tifa's eyes darted to mine for barely a second. Then she said quickly, "Yeah, we're fine. Um, so, about that cell message you got last night at work..."

"Oh, geez, I'm so sorry about that. It was urgent. To be honest, I have sorta a second job, you know, to help pay my mortgage, and it was urgent. I swear it won't happen again though, if it upsets you," Johnny's voice wavered noticeably as he spoke. Now what could he be so nervous about?

"Who was it, exactly, that sent you the message?" Tifa asked abruptly.

"Who? Ah, right, who... Hmm... Uh, my boss. From my second job, and all..."

"As your employer and friend, I'll have to admit that I'm worried about your performance at work. Tell me the name and number of the boss for your second job and I'll see if I can negotiate a possible pay raise for you or at least a break in work hours. You seem overly tense and I'm concerned that having two jobs may be affecting your health," Tifa stated clearly. Damn, she's good.

"No need for your concern. I'm fine, really! But, uh, thanks. I've really gotta get back to breakfast, though. I'll see you later this morning at the bar. And uh, don't worry about that second job I mentioned. It's more of a ... well, it's hardly even a part-time," Johnny laughed apprehensively.

"I'd like to contact your other employer anyways. Would you have a problem with that?" Tifa held her hand on the door, making it impossible for Johnny to shut it without hurting her fingers.

"Yeah, I would, actually. My other boss is... not as nice as you."

Tifa wasn't making the fast progress that we needed, and I was growing restless. Waiting was never something I enjoyed, especially while listening to some guy drone on, obviously scared of his 'other employer.' Jude, no doubt.

"What kind of trouble are you in anyways?" Johnny asked innocently.

"Don't tell anyone, but... I think someone is trying to kill me, Johnny," Tifa leaned forward and whispered, "Do you know anything at all that could help me find out who?"

"Kill you? Geez, now that's something," Johnny let out a tense laugh, "I can't help you out there. And I really gotta go, so uh, I'll-I'll just see you at the bar."

The demure and helpless tone in her voice was ineffective in persuading Johnny to come clean. I couldn't stand it anymore. Tifa wasn't going to get him to talk, so I was going to do it my way. My hand reached for the hilt of my katana.

"Wait," Tifa hissed to me, but Johnny thought she was speaking to him so he opened the door a bit wider and poked his head through the doorway.

Stepping into sight, I unsheathed the blade and kicked open the door, sending Johnny falling backwards. His eyes went wide as he recognized me and attempted to pathetically crawl backwards on the moldy carpet of his foyer.

"Cloud! I-I didn't know you were with her," Johnny gasped.

"Why so frightened, Johnny?" I asked, holding the edge of the sword at a perfect offensive angle. Tifa walked in behind me, and closed the door, shutting out the cold air.

"What-what-what do you want?" He shook, still on the floor.

"You should really take care of that stutter. It's making you sound nervous. Very misleading," I replied in a low voice.

"Cloud..." Tifa touched my shoulder, but I ignored her.

"Do you work for someone named Jude?" I glowered down at Johnny.

At the sound of that name, Johnny jumped just a little, his face slightly paler.

"No...No, never heard of him!" he sputtered.

"You're lying."

The katana sliced downwards quickly with minimal movement on my part, cutting him along the left arm. A superficial wound, yet he yelped like a wounded puppy. Blood trailed down his bicep and he grasped the spot tenderly with his other hand, red weeping through his fingers.

"Are you insane!?" he shouted up at me, his eyes frantically moving from me to Tifa.

"How about you answer my question before I answer any of yours," I replied calmly, "Are you Jude's operative in Edge?"

"I told you! I don't know any Jude!" Johnny cried out, once more edging backwards, his hand shaking.

I stepped after him effortlessly and pulled the katana across again, leaving a matching slice along the forearm that had been nursing his other arm. He screamed and scrambled away from me, holding both arms against his stomach, blood flowing downward rapidly.

"Then I suppose you wouldn't mind calling the number from the message you received last night," I argued, "Because if it's not Jude, then it should be no problem."

Johnny's feeble attempt at retreat made me laugh. He never was a fighter. But I didn't want him crawling any further. With a sigh I once more slashed downwards, this time cutting right above the ankle. He twisted in agony, even though it wasn't a deep cut. Certainly wouldn't bleed to death.

"Fuck! Fuck you!" Johnny screamed, anger mixing with the tears in his eyes, "Jude would fucking kill me!"

"Ah, there's the truth of it!" I exclaimed with a smile, "Now, tell me what you know."

Johnny held his ankle tightly, blood freely coating his arms and foot now, his face a myriad of emotions.

"Jude...I owed him lots of money. Gambling debts," Johnny began describing tearfully, "And he was gonna send someone after me, someone like _you_. But I talked him out of it. I told him," he paused, wincing.

"Go on."

"I ... I told him I'd work for him, for free ya know. Just until my debts were paid off. Told him it would be more beneficial than killing me and he agreed. I'm no fighter, definitely no assassin, so he made me an operative. Gives me messages on my phone about who was supposed to be killed when the assassins would complete a job, to check up on them and all. And I got Tifa's picture last night. Says she was supposed to be terminated."

"Why did you tell Jude she wasn't!?" I yelled.

"H-He would fucking kill me!"

"This is Tifa's life we're talking about! You'd rather snitch on someone who's trying to protect her than stay quiet to preserve her life?"

"I didn't know _you_ were the assassin! I don't get anything except for a name, a picture and an address!"

"Johnny, she's your friend...! Why would you turn on her?!"

"You don't know what Jude would do to me if he found out I lied! You heard what happened to that Wutain guy!" Johnny clenched his teeth, still gripping the wound on his ankle.

"Yeah, I did. Well, now Jude knows I lied because I was the one on that job. So not only have you re-opened the job on Tifa, but you've given me a death sentence as well," I informed him solemnly.

"Shit," Johnny closed his eyes in pain, "I'm so sorry, Tif."

"Don't talk to her," I spat.

"What ... what are you going to do to me?" Johnny asked, clearly frightened.

"Kill you. Because loyalty is obviously not something you understand," I said with finality and raised the sword, my wrists curving slightly. Johnny squeezed his eyes shut.

"Cloud, don't!" Tifa suddenly grabbed my arm, holding me back.

Johnny opened his eyes, still frozen on the floor.

"Tifa, we can't let him live," I explained.

"No, there must be another way! Please, don't kill him!" she pleaded with me, ruby eyes soft and wet.

I lowered the katana, repressing the rage within me, and thought carefully of an alternative to satisfy her. After a moment of contemplation, I gazed coolly at Johnny.

"You will terminate all connections with Jude and you will never speak to him about Tifa or me again. You will deny all knowledge of seeing us and you will never set foot in Tifa's bar again, understood?" I said down to him.

"But-but I can't just stop working for him! What about my debts to him?" Johnny begged.

"That's your problem," I muttered, turning away from him.

Tifa stood directly behind me, her body language confrontational, her eyes locked on mine with a piercing glare.

"Cloud... Don't leave him like this. Don't do this," she insisted, and something in her tone made me think I was committing some unforgivable sin. Her disapproving look tugged at my sensibility.

"Alright," I huffed and faced Johnny once more, "How much is your gambling debt to him?"

"I-I paid off nearly half of it already. But there's about 7k gil left..." he replied sadly.

Begrudgingly, I opened the envelope Jude had given me - my paycheck in cash - and pulled out 7000 gil. I threw the cash at Johnny's feet. That only left me with a remaining 3000 gil, and I still had to procure mako somehow, given as how I'd run out again. But if Tifa would be happier that I spared him, so be it.

"There. And try not to pick the losers next time you play the races," I told him disdainfully.

"...Thanks, Cloud. I won't forget this. And don't worry... Jude won't hear a peep of any of this! Thank you, thank you!" Johnny practically cried, grabbing up the money in his bloodied hands.

Tifa did not look especially pleased, but said nothing. I sheathed my sword and turned to leave. Tifa followed, while Johnny merely clutched the money gleefully, still lying on the floor.

I walked outside, Tifa right behind me, and slammed the front door of Johnny's house. The snow was falling lighter, more sparsely now. But the clouds above remained endless.

"What the hell was that about, Cloud?" Tifa immediately snapped at me.

"What?"

"That...that whole intimidation bit. That's not like you at all!" She crossed her arms over her chest.

"He wasn't responding well to your talk."

"And that katana? Cloud, you're reminding me of-"

"Stop. I don't want to hear it. Yes, I've changed since we've been apart, Tifa. But you know that. And... I'm sorry I got a bit out of control, but he couldn't be trusted. I shouldn't have let him live..."

"Cloud, you nearly cut his foot off! And this arms!"

"Ah, those were all superficial. He'll be fine. He just has a low tolerance for pain," I tried to reason with her.

"That's not the point! Do you always torture people like that?"

I thought for a few moments as we walked back towards my bike. There were so many faces that I had killed. So many numbers. And yet...

"No. No, I don't ever, actually. It's usually quick," I realized, then assessed my attitude towards Johnny and added, "But Johnny is the first person I'd actually known something about. The others... I never even get their name or why they're wanted. I guess I just lost my temper because he indirectly hurt you."

This response seemed to make her relax. Her lips parted as though to retort, but she remained silent.

"Well," she said at length, "Thanks for giving him the money. I had no idea he was in that much trouble, or I would've done something sooner..."

"Don't ever blame yourself for other people's problems," I said didactically and tried to smile, but she wasn't looking at me.

Back on my bike, we left the slums, and I veered off the main highway, out into the open fields. The thin coating of snow gave everything an ethereal gleam as we continued out away from the city.

"So what's the next step?" Tifa yelled to me over the wind.

"With the informant no longer informing... I'd say we try to dig up some customer profiles and see who ordered the hit on you," I said back to her.

"Where do we go for that?" she replied.

"Junon..."


	8. A Little Too Easy

- A Little Too Easy -

* * *

Jude had to be lying. There was no way he could have _that_ many people in every city, like he had told me. And with Johnny hopefully scared enough not to tell Jude we had left Edge, there was a possibility that nobody would be looking for me in Junon. That would be the last place I would be expected to show up. The air warmed a bit the closer we got to Junon, snow subsiding into rain, but still abnormally chilly considering the heat from just days ago. Tifa's head was resting against the back of my shoulder, yet all I could think about was how to obtain more mako. Denzel's trivial amount of powdered mako in my pocket was irrelevant because I would never touch needles, but I wasn't about to throw it away either.

And of course there was the huge problem of actually gaining access to the customer records that Jude no doubt kept in his office, wherever that was. My house was no longer safe, of course. There would be someone there, waiting for me to return, so that was out of the question. Everything felt a bit more impossible the closer I got to the city. But there was no way out now, except forward - further into the mess I'd managed to get myself into. The café Jude would occasionally meet me at remained the only link I could think of, the single place I had ever personally seen him.

It was midday and Junon was alive, streets teeming with people in raincoats or carrying umbrellas, trudging unhappily through the rain. I peeled off the highway and drove towards the twenty-four hour parking garage. The guys who ran the place never asked questions. I paid the requisite 20gil and parked my bike as far back as possible, behind numerous large trucks. Tifa was ominously silent, as though I was just pulling her along like a rag doll.

"You ok?" I asked her finally.

"Yeah... yeah, I just never thought..." she trailed off.

"We'll be fine," I told her, retrieving the slices of my sword from the bike.

She was clearly upset, but remained quiet, watching me sheath the massive sword on my back, moving the katana down on my hip. The added weight was not unwelcome, but I rolled my shoulders to loosen the tension anyways, and headed outside into the crowded street.

"Junon has changed so much," Tifa remarked quietly.

I nodded in agreement, my eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of Jude or any other assassin. Blending into the masses was optimal, but hardly easy for me. I took Tifa's hand in mine, which received little protest much to my disbelief, and guided her along the many narrow streets until at last the buildings cleared and nothing but pure blue ocean stretched out from the end of the upper tier. She did not pause at the sight, but maintained a calm exterior, hurrying behind me. The café was at the end of the block, very close now, a light stream of rain dripping off its roof like a translucent curtain. But a quick glance through the window made me stop short, and Tifa nearly bumped into me.

Jude was sitting inside by the window, facing away from us. He was speaking calmly with someone dressed in a full suit, a cup of coffee in his hand, a cigarette in his mouth, and a newspaper on the table between them. Immediately, I backed out of sight, pushing Tifa along with me.

"He's there," I said to her.

"Your boss? Well, why did you bring us this way, then?" she whispered frantically.

"Because he usually comes here and I wanted to find out if anyone around this area knew where he lives," I explained, "Of course, I wasn't counting on him being here _now_."

"We're not going to that guy's house, are we?"

"Customer records would probably be there. Then we find the name of whoever sent the hit on you and we end it."

I peered carefully around the edge of the alcove we were currently taking refuge in, but Jude hadn't moved and was still conversing.

"Now what?" Tifa sighed.

Suddenly, Jude stood up, shaking the other man's hand. He finished his cup of coffee and threw a few gil on the table before turning to leave, flicking ashes from his cigarette onto the floor.

"Wait... I think he's leaving," I said softly.

He was. Cold expression and all, he departed the café, narrow eyes briefly glancing around. Without hesitation he turned and walked up the street.

"We have to follow him," I said immediately, emerging covertly from our temporary hiding place.

"Are you crazy? I thought he was supposed to be some terrifying madman, and you want to follow him?" Tifa fought openly.

"If he's going home, he'll lead us right to where we want to go," I said, "We don't have a choice."

With that said, I briskly entered the street, my steps falling in with the general flow of the crowd. Tifa huffed and followed suit. Jude was far ahead of us, but I kept my eyes pinned on the dark striped suit, refusing to lose sight of him. He strolled with an air of absolute confidence, hardly looking around much to my surprise. Tailing him was not as difficult as I had thought. And yet his pace seemed to gradually quicken. He broke down into a side street, and we had to fall back to remain inconspicuous, then once more resumed pursuit after several moments had passed. We did this game of stop-and-go all around the city, Jude never once looking behind and us never feeling entirely safe.

Were I anyone else, I would have possibly lost track of him after so many turns, but pure determination fueled my endurance and every time I lost track of him I would hurriedly rush forward, risking exposure, but ultimately finding him again along another alleyway or among the thick mobs drudging along the sidewalks. At last, he stopped, at the far end of a back alley behind a monstrous building. I paused as well, falling back along the side, stooping into an alcove of the adjacent building's back entrance. Tifa was right beside me.

Jude stood in front of a dimly lit yet highly embellished door, looking extremely out of place amidst the garbage and decay of the alley. He swiped a card in the reader along the side and the door popped open automatically. I watched as he entered, suddenly realizing that this was the back of that huge black apartment building I had seen earlier when I was tracking the target the Turks were also after. Ah, I had known before there was another entrance, I just wasn't given the time to find it.

A tiny click as the doorknob locked and Jude was gone. But suddenly he was the least of my concerns. Someone else was coming down the alley directly towards us, someone who must've followed us. Tifa saw him too, because her arms moved slowly to her back pocket, pulling out her fighting gloves. I did not recognize the man.

"You Cloud?" he shouted to me, his eyes moving over Tifa's body.

"Who wants to know?" I responded suspiciously.

"Hah! You must be with a response like that!" He grinned a row of yellow teeth. "Lars wants his money."

Lars. The old bartender. The one who had generously given me mako yesterday. The one who I vowed I would pay back the following day, which would be today. But since I gave Johnny the bulk of my paycheck, I couldn't pay.

"Who are you?" I asked, "One of Jude's associates?"

"Jude?" he let out a laugh, "No, no, I don't fuck around with that guy. I'm... well, let's just say I'm Lars' accountant and I'm bringing him his money," the man said sternly. The fingers in his open hand were twitching sporadically, hovering over his side. "...Even if I have to pry it off your corpse."

He was tall, thin, restless, dark circles under his eyes. A killer. Tifa was already pulling her gloves over her fists, eyes fixed with annoyance, but I saw his hand move quickly, reaching behind his back for something. In a flash, she darted forward, but I grabbed her arm and pulled her behind me, unsheathing my sword and immediately throwing the flat side against me like a shield. The gun suddenly in his hands fired twice, but the bullets ricocheted off the metal harmlessly. He paused and that's when I moved.

Rushing forward, the tip of the sword trailing along the ground, I locked my eyes on his - a cruel gaze suddenly drenched in confusion. Stepping backward he fired again, three more shots, but my sword was angled perfectly, deflecting each bullet. In a handful of slow seconds, realization spread across his expression and he desperately fired one last shot, completely missing me. The momentum of the sword as it curved upward with my wrist struck through his gun, slicing it in half. Bewildered, the man fumbled for a spare clip, as though it would do him any good, an action more of out habit than actual rationalization.

Angling the weight downwards, the blade cut through his arm, tearing through bone at the wrist, severing his hand completely. He screamed and fell, clutching the bloody stump with his good hand, eyes wide and fearful. Sword balanced once more, I advanced towards him as he writhed in the garbage and dirt of the alley, sputtering curses amidst the crying. I wanted information.

"I don't have your employer's money," I told him carefully, "So you're not going to be bringing him anything."

Before I could go on, he suddenly moved his good hand into his pocket and pulled out a knife, flipping the blade open. Jabbing fiercely at me, he grinned insanely, blood still gushing down his other arm. Now this guy _would_ bleed to death if not given proper medical treatment. Tifa was still standing far behind me, not making a sound, but I was focused on the shiny glint swiping at me. I pulled away from him, watching the knife desperately swiping through the air, and replaced my sword on my back, in favor of the katana. Defiantly, he went on, waving that damn tiny dagger like it would catch fire if he stopped. I sighed and slashed the katana forward, knocking the tiny weapon senselessly out of his now mangled fingers.

He screamed again, both hands now bloody (well, one hand and one arm, hehe). His eyes softened, pleading a bit with me. This was where I wanted him.

"Now," I continued calmly, "I was just going to kill you, since I don't particularly want anyone knowing I'm here, but I've got a little problem. I need to get into this building," I pointed back at the door Jude had entered, "So maybe you could help me out with that and I'll let you go."

"How...how the fuck should I know?" he sputtered angrily.

"Mmm, that's too bad." I shook my head and raised the katana.

"Wait! Wait!" he yelled, "I think I can get you in! Yeah, I just remembered a friend used to work as a janitor in that apartment building. Clean toilets and shit." He cringed, breathlessly pressing the ends of his arms against his stomach, red everywhere now.

"I assume your 'friend' has a key, then?"

"Yeah, sure... I just need to call him up!" he cried out, "But since you cut my fucking hand off-"

"Then I guess you are useless to me," I concluded, once more raising the katana, slowly, waiting for more information from him.

"Wait, wait, wait!" he screamed, "I haven't been truthful. I don't got no friend in there. But I _do_ got a keycard I use on jobs to get into buildings just like this one."

"...What sort of keycard?" I asked, leaning forward.

"I don't know. Some techie piece of plastic I bought off a guy in Edge, but it works! I promise it works, just don't kill me!"

I examined him, judging his sincerity.

"Ok, give me this 'magical' keycard then," I instructed.

With great effort, he wrenched the bent fingers of his remaining hand into his pocket and painstakingly pulled out a thin white card, tossing it on the concrete with a groan of pain. I picked it up tentatively.

"Now, take me to a goddamn hospital. I'm feeling faint," he said weakly.

Looking down at him, I said, "Well, I would have found this keycard anyways once I searched your corpse, so I'm afraid that doesn't really count."

He paused, gasping, eyes squinting up at me.

In a quick final sideways cut, I slit his throat. He choked and tried to cough, gurgling bubbles as blood drained down his neck and chest, gushing with every fateful pump of his heart. Within seconds he slumped over, motionless. I wiped his blood off the katana on his shoulder and sheathed the weapon, walking back to Tifa. She had turned away, her eyes closed.

"Let's see if this works," I said to her, holding up the pristine white card.

"Who... who was that?" she asked softly.

"Just some hired muscle for a bartender I know," I explained nonchalantly, and went up to the metal door.

Holding the card delicately, I swiped it in the electronic receiver by the door. A series of multi-tonal beeps emitted from the panel, and after many seconds of doubt, the door popped open. My first bit of luck in days. Smiling at Tifa, I pocketed the card. Interesting gadgets like this is what I really missed out on when I left Edge. And since vowing never to use materia again, I usually had to rely on more conventional means of battle. She did not return my smile.

"Are you just going to... leave him there?" she said severely.

"Hmm," I looked back at the corpse, then said, "You're right. I should move it."

Opening the lid of one of the dumpsters in the alley, I carefully picked up the body and threw it in, slamming the lid closed. It was unfortunate that some of his blood got on my clothes, but unavoidable. I looked back at Tifa with a satisfied smile, expecting the same.

"That's... oh, forget it," she sighed.

"Tell me what's wrong," I said with concern. She truly did look overwhelmingly worried.

"Please, Cloud, don't worry about me. It's just been a while since I ... watched a person die..."

"You've seen your share of plenty of deaths," I added quietly, puzzled by her attitude.

"Yes, too many." She seemed lost in thought for several moments.

Tifa was no longer the wonderfully optimistic lover I remembered. Within a year, it seemed like the world had beat itself down on her. I had never seen her so defeated, so guilt-ridden over past events. It's as though her and I switched places somehow, because I had always been the one dwelling on the past, reliving each moment, analyzing what I could have done differently. She had helped me through all that. So why now was she so introverted?

Leaving her to her silence, I held open the metal door and peered inside. A long gray corridor lit by rows of fluorescent bulbs led down and around a corner, the furthest reaches out of sight. It was unassuming and expressionless, almost like a half-finished emergency exit path - a back entrance that was trying very hard _not_ to look like it belonged to one of the wealthiest apartment buildings in Junon. We had to be close to the truth now, I knew it. My pulse quickened as I stepped into the corridor. Tifa followed, although the hesitation in her footsteps was clear, and the door slammed shut behind us.

The corridor wasn't very long, but ran around several twists, some stairs and finally ended at a very plain wooden door. Beyond this door was the grandest, most elegant luxury I had ever seen. The narrow confines of the corridor opened into a huge lobby by the immediate main entrance that led into the street. Rich crimson carpeting and a modern-style ivory fountain gurgling intricate patterns of water accompanied the spacious long couches and moderately high ceiling painted light blue. Tifa actually gasped.

Thankfully, the lobby was crowded, or our entrance would have been detected at once. But nobody paid us so much as a second glance. The receptionist behind the large white desk was busy reading a magazine and most everyone else was simply going about their business.

"Now we just need to figure out which room is Jude's..." I said under my breath, then I turned to Tifa and said, "Stay here. I'll interrogate the receptionist."

Tifa gave me a cynical look, but said nothing, so I anxiously walked up to the main desk. A young man, a bit older than myself, was sitting idly flipping through a furniture catalogue. He put it down immediately as I neared.

"Can I help you?" He smiled.

"I need to visit a friend of mine, but I don't know the room number," I lied.

"I see. Is your friend expecting you?" He peered down at the computer on his desk.

"No. Well, I was going to... just drop in and say hello." I tried my best to sound genuine.

"I see. Well, we're not in the habit of giving away personal information regarding our tenants," he replied briskly.

"Personal information? A room number?" I asked incredulously.

"Yes. We take security very serious here, to protect our valued tenants."

"...Security?" I repeated stupidly, a bit offended.

"Yes. It keeps the solicitors away."

"You... think I'm a solicitor?" I couldn't conceal my disbelief.

"Frankly, I don't know who you are. So I'm afraid I can't give you information."

"This is ridiculous!" I shouted.

"I'm sorry, sir. There's nothing more I can do."

"Yes, you can. It's very important that I know which room he's in!"

"Like I said -"

"Right, right," I cut him off, "No personal information. Got it."

With a heavy sigh of frustration, I turned away and walked solemnly back to Tifa, who was now seated at the far end of the lobby near a large blue fish tank full of bright yellow goldfish, ready to report my failure. A tiny smile teased her lips.

"He was uncooperative. We may have to use more extreme means of -"

She held up a hand, and I obediently fell silent.

"Let me handle it, Cloud. Not everything is something you can force," she said lightly with that same delicate smile. The one I had happily fallen asleep next to many times long ago. "Now, what is his name?" she asked me.

"Jude. That's all. Not sure if it's a first or last name," I replied and sat down beside her, giving her full permission to try whatever means she thought more appropriate.

She stood up, smoothed her hair and walked right up to the receptionist. I watched as he greeted her with a much bigger smile than he had me. They exchanged several words, him nodding obligingly the entire time, rather nervously. After several minutes she turned and walked back towards me.

"413," she said coolly.

"What? You got the room number?" I asked in amazement.

"Yeah. I just told him I was a call girl that a colleague of Jude's had hired, but I had forgotten the room number and warned him that Jude would be furious if he found out I was kept away because of a silly security policy," Tifa explained simply, "And, we're in luck. Apparently, Jude left through the main entrance the moment before we arrived, so ..."

"A call girl? You told that guy you're a hooker!?" I whispered hoarsely, completely taken aback.

"Oh, relax, Cloud. I'm not _really_ going to sleep with your boss," she said defensively, placing her hands on her hips, "And really, you saw me do the same thing when I had to get information from Don Corneo. I would never actually _do _that! It's just a ruse."

"I... I knew that," I said immediately.

"And since when do you care who I sleep with anyways?" she added in a playful tone.

"Hey, I don't care!" I responded, very contrary to the truth, "I'm not in your life anymore, so, you know..."

She smirked and began walking towards the elevator. I quickly stepped after her, trying hard to keep my mind from wandering around her words. Pressing the elevator call button, she leaned sideways to me and whispered, "You've been the only one, anyways."

My heart quite literally skipped a beat.


	9. A Taste of Regression

-A Taste of Regression-

* * *

The middle of working through a job is no place for old flames to rekindle and certainly no place for unexpected sexual tension to arise. Yet standing in that elevator next to Tifa, I could think of nothing else but our past nights together, and I wanted badly to embrace her again. The elevator moved slowly and I bit my lip, gazing at her from the corner of my eye. If only I could take back the last two years and start over with her. Scarcely able to control my motions, I reached over, grasped her shoulder and pulled her towards me gently.

But she immediately tensed up with her chin angled away from mine, and pushed herself away.

"You're not in my life anymore... remember?" she echoed my own words.

I looked away, feeling foolish, as the elevator stopped and the doors opened on the fourth floor. Once more in control of my emotions, I stepped out, Tifa by my side. The hallway extended either way, lavish ivory patterned wallpaper almost too sterile in contrast to the generous colors of the lobby. 413 was a corner apartment, near the far end to the left. Tifa had once more fallen into her silent repose, and I vaguely wondered if my actions in the elevator were to blame. But, like I said, the time for all those emotions was not now, standing at the door to Jude's apartment. So I pushed them out of my head with a deep breath and tested the doorknob. Locked. Of course.

"See, we should have brought Yuffie along," Tifa sighed, "She would have this lock picked in an instant."

"And I would have had to listen to her talk this entire time," I replied, taking out my own lock pick and trying it on the door.

"Oh, give her a chance, Cloud. She's not as immature as she used to be. She's been taking her responsibilities as ruler of Wutai very seriously."

"Then what is she doing serving drinks in your bar?" I asked half-jokingly.

"Just helping me out, since I've been swamped with customers for the past two months," she retorted.

Despite my best efforts, the lock wouldn't budge. I was far from an expert at lockpicking, but had handled my fair share of simple locks while on other jobs. This one, however, was more intricate.

"I don't think we can pick it..." I assessed.

"Could there be another way in?" she asked.

It occurred to me that I was as good as dead in Jude's eyes anyway, and that made me free of any fear of further wrath from him. So simply breaking down his door and obtaining whatever information lay inside suddenly seemed perfectly reasonable to me. Returning the lock pick to my pocket, I stepped back with my eyes firmly set on the door, and prayed there was no dead bolt. With a tremendous burst of strength, I heaved my leg forward, propelling the rest of my body weight with it, and kicked the door down in a single loud bang as the lock shattered. The door swung wide.

Tifa froze. "Someone would have heard that," she whispered.

Yet there was no movement down either hallway to our right or behind us. I shrugged and entered the apartment. Tifa paused at the doorway, examining the broken lock.

"Cloud... This wire, I think you broke it," she said with a hint of terror.

I bent down and saw what she meant. A tiny copper wire had been twisted around the lock in the doorframe, now wrenched apart. My stomach turned because I knew what it was.

"Shit. That's a silent alarm. So we haven't much time. He probably knows someone's broken in already. We've got to start looking for those records. I'm sure he keeps hard copies around here somewhere," I said hastily and proceeded to swing the door close again, hoping to somehow repair the damage, but it was hopeless.

"Sure." Tifa nodded and began rummaging through the various papers on the desk.

Jude's apartment was entirely lack-luster. It was more of an office with a bed than any sort of real home. There was no hint of personal items or anything that would point to a person actually living there. But the sheer emptiness of it all only seemed to affirm the idea that this was indeed Jude's place. It was cold and unsettling, much like the man himself. A large file cabinet sat in one corner, so I set upon the task of sorting through the mess of papers within, mentally preparing for a confrontation with Jude, if and when he did arrive. Tifa's safety was still, was always, my priority.

Nothing in the files seemed relevant, however. Most of the pages were blank with the exception of a small stack almost hidden, stuffed behind a series of empty folders. These papers were marked with nonsensical patterns of numbers in descending order with another pair of numbers attached in one of three colors. The last number appeared to be a monetary value, but the first two...

"And if we do find out who ordered the job, what do you think killing that person will do? Do you think it will really stop all this?" Tifa's voice broke through my concentration.

"Killing the customer will make Jude's motivation for killing you disappear. He already has his money – all customers pay in advance. Without a customer, Jude has no reason to maintain his reputation to a dead man and will move onto the next order, I hope," I responded, flipping through several more pages filled with lines of numbers.

"What if you're wrong?"

"Then... I don't know. Just keep looking. We're running out of time," I said hurriedly.

There were dates printed on the top of some of the pages, and I realized that only the page from the current month was color-coded with green and yellow in addition to the gray that filled the other pages. On the most recent paper, the gray colored numbers were mostly low numbers – the entire list for the month went up to only 31. And the monetary values on the side fluctuated from two or three thousand gil to over thirty thousand. Only one or two numbers were in yellow and the last five were green. Then it hit me. Of course, this was a list of all job order numbers, probably from the last month or so, with the price paid by the customer. The colors must signify status.

"29," I recited quietly to myself, happy to be making any progress.

"What was that?" Tifa asked mildly.

"29. That is ... your number. The job number associated with you, I mean," I told her reluctantly.

This number had been gray, then crossed out and rewritten with fresh green ink, along with a hefty twenty-five thousand gil price. Now that would have been a great payday. For anyone else. That just left the center number a mystery – five digits, of seemingly random origin.

"If he had any other files, he must've taken them with him," Tifa mentioned from behind me, "Because this desk is suspiciously empty."

Then, at the very bottom of the stack of papers I was holding, there was a single sheet with the current month dated atop that displayed a descending list of five digit numbers, all green, down one side paired with names and either "paid" or "unpaid" – the customers, no doubt. Some names even had several "paid" slots accompanying additional two digit numbers penned in, probably the same person ordering multiple jobs. So the five digit numbers from the other pages must indicate customer identification.

A huge grin accompanied the elating rush of success as I hurriedly scanned down the page to match the five digit numbers found next to 29 from the other sheet. Reading the words next to it, however, I felt my heart hit the floor.

Tifa Lockhart. - Paid.

"No, this can't be right... This must be a list of target's names..." I mumbled, tearing back through each page, searching for something else, anything else. But there was nothing more. Just her name. Hers.

Tifa stood, staring at me with a very troubled expression.

"Cloud..." her voice raised tensely and she held her hand up, as if trying to calm a terrified dog.

"No, this can't be right!" I shouted, throwing the papers, "This is a mistake. It's the wrong list."

"I'm... sorry, Cloud. I didn't mean for you to ever find out," she said sadly.

"What? You mean... this is real? You...? You ..." Words escaped me, anger and confusion overwhelming all senses.

"I was hoping to find any evidence of it before you and destroy it because I didn't want you to find out..." she went on carefully.

"You knew this whole time!" I edged backwards, horrified suddenly, "You knew what we were searching for, yet you let me drag you on this... this senseless chase!"

She yelled back at me in exasperation, "I _couldn't_ let you know! I couldn't tell you because I ..." a pause as she steadied her tone, "I was so ashamed of myself, ashamed that you had gotten involved."

All I could do was stare at her, thunderstruck. My entire world had suddenly been turned upside down. Everything I knew about her faded away, insignificant in the shock of her paying for a hit on herself. A suicide wish. It didn't make sense. Tifa was always the strong one, optimistic, loving, a goddess in my eyes, yet now she seemed so... human. Just like me. Reduced to a vulnerable state. A state which I had never seen her in, and it frightened me to see her fall so low.

"But... why?" I managed to force the words out, a horrible choking sensation holding my throat tight.

Tifa closed her eyes, visibly shivering, with both hands crossed over her chest.

"Why..." I repeated, "Why would you do this to yourself? Do this to me?"

"I..." Her voice was hardly above a whisper, "I never intended for you to be involved. When you disappeared, I had no idea where you went nor did I try to seek you out. Please know I had no idea you were working for Jude when I made the arrangement..."

She looked so tiny suddenly in the dim light with eyes averted to the floor and shoulders slumped in sad defeat. It took me several moments to fully absorb her words.

"Why, Tifa?" My voice was strained, a horrid stinging in my eyes.

"Because... it's all gone to hell, Cloud. Everything. The planet. Edge. My... family," she whispered and leaned forward, steadying herself against the desk with one palm.

I had no idea what she meant, so I waited dumbly for her to continue.

"I'm sure you've noticed," she said softly, her voice breaking with emotion, "Noticed how the planet is in pain. Everything got fucked after Meteor. The weather is unpredictable, hostile. Society in general has been in absolute decline. That awful drug has been affecting everyone, causing a huge rise in violence. There's poverty and corruption everywhere in every city, ShinRa could care less about what's been going on – all Rufus' words are nothing but pretty lies – and even in my home, I'm losing the battle." Her sad eyes lifted slowly to me, dark garnet shiny with welling tears.

"What... what do you mean?" I asked, matching her gentle tone, "This isn't because ... I left, is it?"

She shook her head. "No, Cloud, it isn't. Your leaving was something I had come to accept. We couldn't be together. I made that choice. But..."

"Go on..." I pressed her, somewhat relieved that I hadn't been the main cause of her suffering.

"Elmyra took Marlene away from me," she burst out in a single breath, trembling, "She showed up at the bar for a surprise visit, took one look at Marlene helping me behind the bar counter, and whisked Marlene off to Kalm, claiming that I was being a negligent guardian by letting such a young child near all that liquor. And after that, Denzel started getting into constant trouble at school and often would disappear for hours, which would scare me half to death because I couldn't get a hold of him. I'm pretty sure he's also been stealing money from me, but I don't want to think about why – I can only hope he isn't doing that drug, too..."

She had completely broken down, all this information spilling from her head. And I did not know how to handle it.

"But... contracting an assassin...?" I couldn't complete the sentence.

"I wanted out, Cloud. Out of this mess. And I am too much a coward to do it myself."

"But what about the bar? Your business looked like it was doing great..." I tried to bring up anything positive that I could.

"A bartender," she laughed, "That seems like the only job I'll ever be good at. Getting gawked at by drunk men all day didn't seem to bother me so much before. But people tend to drink more alcohol the more upset they are with life. And as societal conditions fell, business rose. I don't want to be a part of something that thrives on misery..."

"Then you don't have to own a bar if you don't want to. I can make enough money for us both!" I stated logically.

"I don't want to be dependent on you, Cloud. And besides... the main reason is..." she let out a long deep sigh, "...the guilt. The guilt of all the people, innocent people, I helped kill while in Avalanche. All the meaningless lives lost... and for what? Our actions in Avalanche never changed anything back then. Good people like Jessie and Biggs and Wedge... All meaningless now. It's all meaningless. People died when they didn't have to. Even Aer-"

Her voice suddenly halted and she began crying, silently. The tears streaming down her face struck the most sorrowful chord within me, but I didn't move, still stunned by everything.

"What the hell was it all for?" she sobbed softly, "What was the point of everything we did, everything we went though and worked towards, if it all just gets thrown away in the end. The world isn't a better place now than it was five years ago. And it's only getting worse. At least, in my eyes."

I had to say something comforting. But the truth was that I knew exactly how she felt. I simply took mako to block it all out, though. Every painful memory that just wouldn't heal. Every face in the night that had died because of me. No, things were far from perfect. But I managed to live with it.

"And..." she went on tearfully, "And when you showed up at the bar again, and I found out it was _you_ that was supposed to kill me... I ... just..." She fell into small sobs, covering her face with her hands.

"Tifa..."

I couldn't begin to express the sincere empathy I felt for her. So I did the only thing I could do. I moved towards her slowly as the world around us seemed to pause, and I held her.

Wrapped delicately in my arms, she pressed her soft tear-soaked cheek next to mine, and I simply held her. Sometimes that was all she needed when we were together. Often if she was stressed out from work or angry about something beyond her control, she would just wordlessly fall into my arms as we lay together in bed at night, and I would hold her tightly until she fell asleep. She said it was comforting, so I was hoping my actions now would invoke that same comfort.

Tifa was always unbreakable in my eyes. She was the smart one. Selfless. Enduring. Stable. The glue that had held me together long ago. Yet now she was shattered in my arms, and I felt empty. Betrayed, almost, by my own conception of what she should be. What she was to me.

"I'm so tired, Cloud..." she said faintly, exhaustion heavy in her voice, as if an unfathomable weight was pressing on her throat.

But everything was still processing in my head. All logic had been turned off. All focus had been lost. To imagine the strongest person in the world falling to pieces right before my eyes was disorienting, ruinous.

"I never counted on you... upholding that promise..." Her voice grew weak and her weight shifted more heavily onto me. "I just..."

"Don't worry about it anymore. The explanations. The reasons. I am no longer concerned with them, for now," I said softly to her, still hugging her close.

The clean soapy scent of her hair and skin spawned my dead memories. The first night we kissed, when I realized that it was impossible not to be with her. Her slender body trembling with ecstasy under mine the first time we made love. The awful revulsion in her eyes the first time I hurt her. The resolute unmoving tone of her voice the last time I hurt her. The moment the familiar jab of rejection greeted me once more yet I swallowed the poison and moved on. But that was over a year ago. Perhaps in that time, my image of her was distorted, shaped into something more. Perhaps she could never fit into the form I had set for her in my mind.

At the moment, however, none of that mattered.

"We need to get out of here..." I told her gently, pushing her to arms length so I could see her eyes.

"Right," she mumbled half convincingly.

"Tifa, can you tell Jude to cancel it? Since it was you who made the order?" I asked, careful not to sound too demanding.

"No... He told me, before, that nothing is refundable. He advised me to reconsider, given that it's only a one-way deal, but I was sick of waiting. I paid in full using the savings from the bar that very same day," she responded, her voice empty, eyes red.

"So there's no stopping it? Not even if the customer requests it?" The sudden sensation of hopelessness was beginning to take hold of me.

"I guess not. No refunds."

It didn't seem possible. But the entire day had been a series of impossibilities. And we had to keep moving.

"This place is not safe," I said firmly and held Tifa's hand, preparing to leave.

"I beg to differ," a terribly familiar voice daunted from the doorway. Jude.

A shiver went through me. I hadn't even heard him arrive. And he was smirking, a cigarette in one hand, the other arm bent behind him concealed, standing at the open door almost silhouetted by the light from the hallway behind him. I had been so caught up with Tifa that I hadn't even noticed his presence. Or so I'd like to believe. I silently cursed myself for being so careless.

"Jude!" I shouted in surprise, placing myself in front of Tifa protectively.

"Ya know, I was just about to head over to Edge to execute the stupid bitch myself and find your sorry ass, but it seems you've conveniently climbed right into my office," Jude said nonchalantly, flicking ash.

"This is just a huge misunderstanding, Jude. The job on Tifa -"

"Oh!" he interrupted me, grinning, "You think this is about the job I ordered you on? You really think I give a fuck about a measly 25k suicide hit? No. It's _you_ that's got my attention now, Cloud. I'm just going to kill her on principle," he growled, eyes flashing with a crazed determination that frightened me.

A confrontation with him was the furthest thing from my mind. It was obvious now how much bloodshed upset Tifa, so I had to at least look for a way out without anyone getting killed. I tried, desperately, to reason. "But...but I was only trying to help her –"

"How noble. But it's not about that, and you know it." His words were slow, as if carefully chosen. "I just can't stand it when someone lies to me, Cloud. You know that." The frigid sincerity was unsettling.

There were many footsteps, suddenly, down the hall coming towards us. Two or three additional people, I was sure of it. Jude did not move. Most likely his people.

"Just let us walk out of here, Jude. There's no reason for this..." I urged pathetically.

The hand behind his back moved quick. Too quick. He held out a pistol and fired over my shoulder in less than a second, the silenced shot cutting through the air in a muted pop. Tifa screamed out in pain, and my heart froze. I spun around to face her, but she wasn't looking at me. Her eyes were wide, one hand pressing hard against her chest, near her shoulder, red gushing between her fingers.

My arms moved to her, holding her up, her body shaking, skin cold. She was going into shock. Everything happened in bits and pieces, weightless, unreal. A second short pop tore through the air and searing pain exploded through my leg. Hot liquid was rushing openly from the sudden exit wound in my thigh, and I fell. Down. Down a long ways until I hit the floor. Tifa was no longer in my vision, and my brain was finally registering pure unfiltered panic. Because I didn't know where she was suddenly.

I was lying on my side, unimaginable pain stabbing through my leg, and Jude's cold stare was watching me, smiling. I shut my eyes, only for a moment, to balance my head again, to conquer the pain just long enough to stand up and reach for my sword. Just long enough for me to cut him down, to fucking kill him and end this.

But footsteps were near me and just as I opened my eyes again, a blinding pain struck the back of my head with such force that my vision went white. Then black. And everything stopped.


	10. Dead Lilies

- Dead Lilies -

* * *

There was neither beginning nor end. There were just ... flowers everywhere. In all directions. Thousands of yellow and white fragments of starlight, crushed and contained inside tiny petals, slivers of color amidst the green. Petals were falling from the sky, too. A cloudless dark blue vastness above. Tyrannical in its absoluteness. Guarded in its emptiness. Yet the grass was illuminated as if by an unseen sun. Perhaps here was where I would see her. Here... 

The smell of burning flesh abruptly eroded my thoughts, dissolving the dreamy scene, flowers wilting and fading into nothingness. I coughed and awoke.

There were several things that I became immediately aware of, aside from the shooting pain in my leg and the throbbing ache in the back of my head. Sitting upright in a cold metal chair with my arms tightly restrained behind me, I instantly realized my sword was gone, the mako had worn off, and Tifa was nowhere in sight. Someone had wrapped a crude white bandage around the wound on my leg, dark red bleeding through to the edges. Sweat covered my face. My mouth was extremely dry, and I was thirsty.

I took one look around the small room that served as my containment, testing the strength of my restraints but they were solid, thick woven metal. All my muscles ached, and after a brief struggle attempting to free myself, I realized the chair was bolted to the floor. I was in a concrete basement somewhere with no windows or other furnishings, just a dirty yellow bulb hanging naked from the ceiling. A distant buzzing made my head hurt and I couldn't recall how much time had passed. The odor of burnt skin nauseated me.

"Tifa..." I tried to call out, but my voice was hoarse, so it was little more than a whisper.

However, I was not alone. Something stirred behind me, but I couldn't turn my head fully, my neck stiff and unyielding.

"Hello...?" I said apprehensively.

A noise like something dragging itself across the floor was the only response. It was an awfully slow scraping sound like sandpaper against metal, coming closer.

"...Who's there?" I continued, trying to get a glimpse of whatever lay in the darkness outside my vision.

The thing slowly came into view, crawling towards me from behind my left. A hideous mass of bubbly red and black skin, hairless, featureless. A human. Or at least, it had been. It pulled itself closer with its burnt limbs, head turned up at me, and I shrank away from its pained gaze.

"..h..hel..p...me..." Its lips parted, a pink tongue and white teeth the last vestiges of its former existence.

"Oh fuck..." I breathed out, realizing it was very much alive and undoubtedly in excruciating pain.

The thing fell back onto its stomach, apparently exhausted from the two words it uttered.

"I... I can't help you, I'm tied up. But maybe if you can just somehow untie me, then I can help you..." I said hopelessly, knowing the poor thing couldn't possibly untie me with its fingers all seared together.

But it didn't respond. And it no longer moved. I got the sinking feeling it was dead, its last strength consumed with those final words. A new terror fueled my adrenaline because it was clear that my own fate lay charred at my feet. And Tifa... I had seen her get shot, but I refused to believe it. I had to see her again. It was too cruel to pull her away from me after so much.

The wooden door down to my right opened suddenly, and two men I recognized as fellow associates of Jude walked in followed by the man himself. There was a spatter of blood stains on Jude's gray striped suit and a solemn look on his face.

"Jude..." I growled, seething hatred.

He raised his eyebrow in acknowledgement. All three of them stopped directly in front of me. Jude snickered down at the scarred body on the floor, and one of the other assassins picked it up. The crunching sound of the burnt flesh as he held it made me sick.

"Cloud... You know, this is actually quite difficult for me. Because we share many of the same ideals, you and I," Jude began empathetically.

"Save it. I don't share a damn thing with you," I responded angrily.

"We're both men of convention," he went on unaffected, "It's too easy nowadays to pull the trigger of a gun or shove a glowing orb of materia into one's arm and wield magic. It takes a true artist to master the sword so ...flawlessly."

"I'm flattered," I said dryly.

"You are enamored with death, just as I am. It's clear from the precision of your executions that you prefer to engage your target up close and stab them through the heart to watch their eyes dim," he went on.

"What?"

"You don't use materia or bullets, you cut people up. Tell me, does it excite you to watch their blood flow out?"

"What! This is sick!" I shouted.

"Do you feel powerful knowing you hold their lives in the flick of your wrist? Hmm?" Jude continued mercilessly.

"I... well..." His words hit me hard. "Fuck you, Jude!"

"Ah, so I'm right, of course. That's why we are not so different. Because I enjoy that power too. I enjoy watching people squirm when they know they are guilty. I enjoy the very basic image of death." He held an outstretched hand into the air, then closed his fingers into a fist and lowered his voice before continuing, "Of course, I'm speaking of blood. Yes, blood. Blood spilling from a slash down the chest or from the neck. Bullets do not give the same effect. I think you understand that. You carry a katana and a sword that splits into six edges? If that isn't sadistic, I don't know what is," he laughed a little.

"This is bullshit, Jude. I didn't lie to you for the money! You don't understand. I _know_ Tifa. That's why I couldn't complete the job!" I tried to explain.

"Ah, it's too late for that. Unfortunately for you, I don't forgive people who cross me very easily. Perhaps you'll make a good headline in the papers and on the news. So people will have another example of what happens if they try to fuck me over," he said darkly.

He nodded to the man holding the charred body, who exited the room at once.

"That was someone of no consequence," he explained, and drew something from his pocket, "But I'm wondering how long can you go without this." He held up the mako I had taken from Denzel, undoubtedly removed from me when I was knocked unconscious.

I swallowed hard, the sight of it causing my headache to worsen.

"Hmm. How long can a junkie go without a hit, Cloud?" He smiled maliciously, then added, "I've heard the withdrawal symptoms are awful. Good thing you won't be around to experience them, right?"

The other assassin returned, the charred body of course no where in sight. The two glared at me viciously.

"Well, this is the last time I'll be seeing you, and I truly am sorry it had to be you. I was really starting to see a future for you in this business," he concluded with a mocking hint of melancholy.

"We aren't alike, no matter what you say, Jude. You say guns are too easy, but you're the one using them," I said to him spitefully.

"When you're at the top of the food-chain like me, Cloud, you're allowed to be lazy. I had to work my way up, and the katana had always been my weapon of choice, much like you. Now I'm just a damn good businessman. I don't need to get my hands dirty anymore, although the occasional death does still liven up my blood," he said, motioning with his hand toward the door the charred body had been taken through.

"What about Tifa? Where is she?" I couldn't contain my curiosity anymore, the fear of her death all too real.

Jude began laughing.

"This woman is special to you, I see. That makes it all more interesting," he said cryptically after several moments.

"Where is she?!" I repeated, shouting desperately.

"Goodbye, Cloud. I have other matters to attend. Once you're begging for death, I'll be back. That's the part I still enjoy," Jude told me with a smile and turned towards the door to leave.

"Wait!" I screamed to him, but he did not stop.

Then he was gone. The other assassins had stayed behind, however, and were now eyeing me like hungry wolves.

"This is going to be fun," the shorter skinnier one said, his voice fluctuating sporadically with excitement.

"It's always fun watching one of the best fall," the other one replied, eyes on me, "At least our competition will be down. You always did get the highest-paying jobs."

"Wait... You've gotta let me out of here. This is a huge misunderstanding," I said to them, "You work with me! We're on the same side!"

"No. We work for Jude, and you don't anymore. Therefore we are not on the same side," the taller one said.

"Then what are you going to do? Kill me?" I asked cynically.

"No. Jude is going to kill you. We're going to make you _wish_ Jude would kill you sooner." The skinny one grinned, pulling a serrated dagger from the sheath at his waist.

"That's it?" I scoffed.

"You won't be so arrogant after we peel the skin off your face and cut your fucking intestines out," he replied viciously. I was not impressed.

"You can't intimidate me. Get Jude back in here. I wasn't finished talking to -"

The taller one punched me in the mouth, cutting my words short. Pain tore through my jaw, and I remained shocked, opening and closing my jaw to dissipate the swelling numbness. He punched me hard again and I tasted blood. The one holding the dagger was giggling maniacally and lunged forward, pressing the sharp blade to the side of my face, right near my left eyebrow. With a bit of effort, I kicked upwards with my good leg, shoving him back. But he wasn't deterred and suddenly stabbed downward, the dagger cutting directly into my wounded leg. The serrated edge ripped deep and I screamed, hot pain jumping through my spine to my brain. He twisted the handle, the metal turning and cutting.

"Fuck...! S-Stop!" I shouted, squeezing my eyes closed.

The dagger was pulled out, ripping more as it exited, and warm blood gushed outward down my leg. He once more pressed the blade against my eyebrow, liquid dripping down my face from it.

"I don't like your eyes," he snapped, "Shiny. I don't like shiny things. Maybe I'll just cut them out."

I refused to open my eyes, trying desperately to conquer the rush of panic and fear. Pain was only a temporary thing, I told myself. A thing I had to control if I was going to get out of this somehow.

The blade was pressing inwards now, cutting below my eyebrow, following the edge of my eye socket almost playfully then tracing over my cheekbone. I jerked my head backwards, but there was a sharp blow to my stomach as the other guy punched me hard once more. The definite increase in the force of his punches indicated that he had now put on metal knuckles, much to my dismay. My stomach ached horribly, and I struggled once more to free my hands, but the restraints didn't budge. The skinny one let out a groan of annoyance and grabbed my neck with one hand, holding me steady as the wet edge of the dagger cut down the side of my face slowly, a relentless sharp sting paling all other injuries. I bit my lip, hard.

Another punch to the other side of my face brought a fresh pain, my eye instantly swelling, my brow cracked from the brass knuckle. Still, I kept my eyes closed and my lips sealed. I tried to picture that field of endless flowers that I had found myself dreaming before. Yellow and white in green under blue. They were so blurry now, though. Red was everywhere. Everywhere.

I imagined kneeling in the field, flowers all around me. But the closer I looked, the more I saw that the dashes of yellow and white were not so vibrant anymore. In fact, all the flowers were wilted. I was surrounded by an infinity of dead lilies.


	11. Perchance to Dream

- Perchance to Dream -

* * *

Mako. Mako would have made it all better. The left side of my face was torn in shreds, blood coagulating in raw tiny globs. My other eye was nearly swollen shut. My leg was numb and wet with dark red. Blood was in my mouth, sliding down my throat. But all I could think of was mako. Time had passed, without a doubt. No more than an hour. But things were slow. So slow and strangled with pain. But I didn't want to scream or curse at my tormentors or beg them for Jude's mercy. I wanted nothing that would fulfill them. 

Breathing became difficult after a while, and a strange coldness was creeping over me. My eyes were open because the assassins had temporarily stopped, taking a break I suppose. So I was staring at them as they leaned against the far wall talking amongst themselves, smoking cigarettes and occasionally laughing. Honestly, I had no plan. No way out because my mind was swamped with a sort of fog that had accumulated. A deep headache pounded profusely, distracting me.

I'd often heard that in the face of death, one usually thinks about their life. But my thoughts were far from myself. I wasn't thinking about my life at all, but hers.

A loud crashing sound from the other room brought me back into reality. The two assassins were looking curiously at the door.

"Go see what that was..." the taller one ordered, sending the skinny one away.

My eyes moved to the doorway as the one with the dagger left. The other gazed suspiciously at me.

"Don't get any bright ideas," he said to me, "Once he gets back I think we'll have fun breaking all those bones in your fingers."

A sad attempt at intimidation again. I didn't have long to dwell on it though because a guttural scream of terror erupted from the other room, tearing through the air. The sudden sound prompted the tall one immediately towards the door, but he didn't get so far because it suddenly swung open of its own accord, and he halted.

And _she_ stepped through the doorway, her eyes narrowed on the assassin in front of her. Her left arm was completely immobile, folded against her side, bloody bandages covering her shoulder, but her legs maintained a firm fighting stance and her right arm was poised in front of her, a powerful fist.

I smiled, my lips cracked and bleeding. She saw me, but made no movement towards me, nothing but a fierce determination on her face. The tall guy charged at her, but he was slow and heavy. She easily avoided him, dashing to the side, and kicked him square in the ribs. He fell back, the wind knocked out of him, then tightened the metal knuckles on his fist and swung at her again. She blocked his punch and countered with one of her own, moving gracefully to make the most of her momentum. His nose broke in a crunch of cartilage and bone, blood gushing out.

She kicked high, nailing him in the face with her boot and he stumbled back, swiping blindly at her again. She kicked him again in the stomach and he fell flat. But he was back up immediately, snarling like a cornered animal. She spun sideways, another powerful kick directly at his chest, but he dodged and flung himself at her, tackling her to the ground, his fists pummeling her face. With a grunt of pain, she managed to bring her good arm between them and punched him solidly against his skull, moving his weight to the side, and she pushed herself off the ground, standing once more.

The two fought with a frightening sense of urgency, neither one showing signs of tiring. And I could do nothing but watch. After several fierce blows to the face, she clutched at her head, closing her eyes for a second as if dizzy. The assassin reached forward and grabbed her by the throat, pinning her against the wall. Coughing and sputtering, she struggled under him, then moved one leg up and kicked him backwards with such surprising force that I honestly thought he would not be getting back up.

She spat blood from her mouth and winced, gently touching her injured shoulder. The assassin was trying to reorient himself, wiping blood from his nose. She shook her head sadly, as if begging him to just stay down so she could rest, but he glared up at her, slowly getting to his feet. And she moved quickly, with a pained remorseful look in her eye. Before he could fully recover, she knelt behind him, bringing her good hand around his neck. Suddenly her eyes went to mine, and she jerked his neck in an impossible angle. With a revolting snap and crack, he fell. Permanently. His body hit the floor in a dead thud and she closed her eyes.

"Tifa..." I barely whispered happily, a smile still hurting my face.

My voice seemed to snap her from a trance, and she immediately rushed to my side. She fumbled with the restraints, and sighed.

"I can't break it. Where're the swords?" she said into my ear.

"I...don't know," I replied, straining my voice through the coppery taste of blood.

"I'll be right back," she assured and disappeared behind me, rummaging through something that sounded metallic. "Cloud... did they use these things on you?"

I couldn't see what she was referring to, so I just shook my head. She returned after a few minutes with a rather menacing bone saw.

"Ok... Don't worry. Just try to move your hands apart a bit..." she instructed me, a hardly concealed panic in her tone.

I complied, painfully moving my wrists so she could cut the restraint. After a few attempts, she cut me free and I happily stretched my arms in front of me, my shoulders aching. I stood, leaning heavily against her good shoulder and turned my head to see what had been behind me. A long metal table with dozens of twisted instruments was perched against the wall, everything from scalpels to drills scattered amongst unrecognizable weapons of torture. A can of flammable liquid and a dozen assorted green materia were stacked on the floor.

"They were going to kill me...but..." I trailed off, realizing that what I had experienced was just the beginning of whatever I was supposed to go through, whatever those sick fucks had planned. It made me very nauseous. And just a bit sleepy. Loss of blood.

"Cloud, hang on," Tifa called gently, nudging me a bit.

"You... saved me. How? I thought I saw you get shot..." I mumbled and smiled weakly at her, wondering if this was nothing but a dream.

"I did, but there was so much commotion, and I just remember feeling an incredibly hot pain then seeing you get knocked unconscious," her voice broke off for just a second and her eyes seemed unfocused, then she cleared her throat and continued calmly, "I woke up in a freezing cold room upstairs and Jude told me the bullet was removed because he needed me alive. He said he would kill me in front of you... to ... I don't know, upset you," she replied, brushing off the last part of her sentence hurriedly.

"It would have. A lot. I thought I lost you back there. For good," I commented softly.

She lowered her head. "Me too..."

"How did you find me?"

"A short while after Jude left me, I tore out of that room, fighting though anyone I couldn't avoid, searching for you. We're in some sort of office building, mostly abandoned from what I could see. You're in the basement right now. Come on, let's get out of here while we still can," she said firmly, holding me up.

"Tifa... Thanks," I tried to tell her, but my voice faint, so I wasn't sure if she heard.

Together, hobbling along like some comical pair of misfits, we left the basement. The next room over was a garbage room. The skinny assassin with the knife lay dead on the floor, courtesy of Tifa, and the charred body I had seen earlier lay dumped in one corner. We began to ascend a concrete flight of stairs to the main floor. My right eye was still sore and swollen, my left barely a few centimeters from being gouged out by the knife slice down my face, bits of my skin torn away, and my leg hurt so badly I could hardly put any weight on it. Secretly, I was relieved they had done this to me and not her because I knew that between the Mako and the Jenova, my cells were physically more resistant to trauma than hers.

"Tifa," I said weakly, still leaning heavily against her, "I want you to know that none of this is your fault."

It was clear how much pain she was in, though she was trying to hide it. Her left arm was still entirely motionless, pressed flat against her side, and the crude bandage wrapped around her shoulder was dark with blood as was the whole left side of her shirt. It seemed that her fight with the assassin had further aggravated the wound beneath. Walking up the steep concrete steps was extremely difficult for me, given the condition of my leg, but I knew that even if left untreated I would live. Tifa, on the other hand, was looking sickly pale and despite her best attempts at remaining calm and collected, her eyes were full of pain. She had lost a lot of blood and if she didn't get to a hospital or use a curing materia, she would die.

"Don't take the blame for this, Cloud," she huffed, wincing, "I know –"

"No," I interrupted, "I don't mean this situation. I mean Midgar. Sector Seven."

"What?" She stopped mid-step, and so did I.

"You told me before that you felt guilty for all the lives you took working with Avalanche, but I want you to know that it's not your responsibility. ShinRa destroyed the plate. ShinRa killed those people. That's not your burden to bear. Just as Meteor is not mine."

A little sardonic smile accompanied the short laugh I heard from her. "I know you're talking about the Black Materia incident. But you were just acting under Jenova, so no one really _can_ hold you responsible for Meteor."

"But that's exactly my point," I stressed, "I was acting as nothing but an instrument. And so were you. I thought I was behaving in line with my destiny because Jenova wanted me to believe that it was my duty to fulfill that single purpose and deliver the Black Materia. You thought that working against ShinRa and planting explosives in Mako reactors was your duty to break the people free of ShinRa's control. Neither one of us knew how many innocent people would die in response to our actions, because we were responding to a higher sense of obligation within ourselves."

"That doesn't mean we can't take responsibility for what's happened because of us."

"You're missing the point. No matter what, nobody made ShinRa destroy that plate except for ShinRa. Not you. You were doing what you thought was right," I argued, but I was beginning to get dizzy and lose my focus, so my words weren't exactly eloquent. All of my points were getting jumbled together in my head, and perhaps I wasn't making much sense to her anymore. I continued, "Just as I can't hold myself responsible for Meteor because I wasn't the one who summoned the damn thing."

She didn't respond and averted her eyes from mine, looking back down at the steps. Her good arm held me a little tighter and we resumed climbing without another word on the subject. We reached the top and she took a few moments' pause before easing open the metal door to the ground floor.

Tifa seemed tougher, more determined than I had last seen her. She reminded me of the old Tifa I had left behind in Edge. Strong. Sensible. Reliable. Beautiful in her own dangerous way.

"I was thinking about what would have happened if you hadn't been the one assigned to kill me," she said suddenly.

"Do you think it was fate?" I asked in response.

"I don't believe in fate..."

"Neither do I."

The first floor was indeed the remnants of an abandoned office building. Large fractured glass windows lined the perimeter of several cubicles, vinyl half-walls mostly overturned or missing. There were some corner offices that had their own private doors, but little else of interest. A few bodies lay scattered, guards from the looks of them, more proof of Tifa's determination. Through the windows the sun was dawning, purple and orange clouds stretching carefully upwards from the horizon, reflecting on the distant sea below. We made it to the front door.

"I would have been murdered by a stranger and that would have been it..." Tifa went on, dreamily.

"I suppose so."

Although I was grateful to be free of the torture in the basement, a new inner pain was twisting around within me. Something I had never experienced before, yet I knew exactly what it was. I needed mako. My headache was getting worse, too. Everything felt dim, like it was constantly falling away every time I blinked.

"Cloud...? Are you alright? Hang in there..." I heard Tifa saying to me.

"I'm fine," I said, then suddenly remembered something, "Wait, I need to find my swords."

"You can barely walk. Let me look for them," she insisted, gently resting against a wall and shifting my weight from her.

"Yeah, but your shoulder is hurt. You won't be able to carry them both with one arm," I argued.

She laughed a little. "You really are too much. But you're staying put. I can find them faster than you limping around," she said, heading off towards the nearest corner office.

My phone was gone, too, but that was the least of my concerns. Swords, mako, Tifa. That's what it all came down to anyways. In no particular order, of course. She ran quietly along the walls, searching the corner offices and all the cubicles, but returned empty handed.

"I can't leave without them..." I said sadly. Because killing Jude would be difficult without a weapon.

"I'll try the second floor. Don't go anywhere," she said with a little smirk and ascended the staircase.

Truly, I was expecting to be discovered at any moment by more assassins or even Jude again, but it was strangely quiet, aside from Tifa's footsteps rushing around upstairs. There was a loud thud and a light scraping sound. Apparently she had found something. Moments passed and she once more appeared on the staircase, the katana sheathed on her back and the massive six bladed sword in her good arm, dragging just a bit along the floor. It actually made me want to laugh.

"You look pretty good with that," I teased her, referring to the katana.

"This is heavy..." she replied crossly.

"I know. I tried to tell you!" I smiled, the broken skin along my face cracking.

She threw the sword at my feet in a dramatic display and began removing the katana as well.

"No, keep that one. In case you need it," I said seriously, simply because she looked so beautiful with it.

"I don't like swords. Not my type of thing anyways. You know that," she replied curtly, handing me the sheathed blade.

"Right. I knew that," I echoed mindlessly, adding the new weight to my back. Except with the pain in my leg, the swords felt that much heavier. "Hmm... This _is_ heavy," I muttered.

"I never thought I'd hear you say that, and yet..." she joked, giving me an enticing look. Definitely the old Tifa back.

I pushed past her, trying to prove that pain was irrelevant and headed towards the main entrance. She followed, offering her arm for support, but I refused. Walking was difficult, yes, but not impossible. Pushing open the door, I expected some alarm or an assassin waiting outside or something, but nothing happened. Carefully, we exited.

We were right in the middle of the slums, on the outskirts of Junon. Far from a hospital and very far from the garage where my bike was, but actually quite close to my home, or whatever was left of it considering Jude had been there looking for me. Tifa wouldn't have been able to walk much farther in her deteriorating condition, so I knew heading to my apartment was the best bet for her. She could rest and I might have something there to help treat the hole in her shoulder, I reasoned. And if there was even a slight chance I had somehow left mako anywhere in the house, I needed to find it. Now.

"We need to get to my apartment first, then we need to settle up with Jude," I told her.

"What? You're insane! There's no way we're staying here. And there's definitely no way we're going near Jude again!" she countered, "We've got to just get as far away from here as we can."

"You're hurt and we can't exactly walk across the city like this."

She did not look convinced, but protested no further.

"This way," I told her, motioning down the street. The odd truth was that I was suddenly more concerned with finding mako than anything else. A raw bitter pain was sliding around my ribs and up my spine, reaching across my skull in a dull throbbing headache. Ignoring it the best I could, we continued together towards my apartment building.

The part of the city we were walking through hardly got crowded in the mornings since the slums were mostly avoided. The only people out that early were junkies. And the ones who weren't passed out in side alleys could care less about us, though I caught a few eyeing Tifa. She was still beautiful even when we probably looked like hell.

"You... live around here?" Tifa asked apprehensively.

"Further down," I said, limping a bit on my own. The physical pain in my leg and face was becoming inconsequential to the new feeling driving me forward.

"We'll stop just for a bit to rest and clean that head wound of yours. But then I think we need to somehow get out of the city. Go to Wutai or somewhere far for a bit. And then get medical attention. Your leg... looks like it could get infected," she said, sounding perfectly reasonable, like her regular self. I couldn't help but smile at her.

"Sure. It's down here. One more street over." And what if I didn't have any mako there? I didn't want to think about that possibility. Going to Lars was out of the question since I still owed him a lot of money that I couldn't possibly pay anymore now that I was unemployed, but he was the only dealer I trusted.

My apartment building loomed in the dim morning light, half in shadows, unchanged in its derelict appearance. I reached for my keys, but of course, all of my pockets had been emptied.

"My keys..." I said unhappily.

"They took everything from me too..." Tifa added, just as hopelessly.

But as we neared the entrance, it was clear that keys would not be needed because someone had broken the lock clean off the door. It merely swung open, the gray innards of the lobby on display for anyone passing by in the street. Of course, I knew who that someone had been.

Determined to obtain some mako, any mako, I made my way into the building and up the narrow staircase to my floor. Tifa seemed less willing, but followed nevertheless. My door was the only one in the hallway that had been kicked down. With a deep sigh, I entered my apartment to find the entire place a mess. Not from anyone overturning it. Far from it. The whole place was unchanged from when I left it; I had just never bothered to clean up.

Tifa propped the door shut as best she could and took a look around. I went into the bathroom to get some gauze from the medicine cabinet and to begin my covert search for any leftover mako.

I heard her walk from the kitchen into my bedroom. "So this is what you call home."


	12. Colorless Sunrise

- Colorless Sunrise -

* * *

Washing the coagulating clumps of blood off my face stung severely, and I leaned over the sink squeezing my eyes shut for a moment as the swirl of diluted red disappeared down the drain. The segments of bare muscle beneath burned from exposure to the water and air. I bit my lip against the pain and stood to examine the damage more closely in the mirror. Several jagged sections of raw flesh, branching from the long slice down the left portion of my face, were cut across in deep diagonals near my eye and cheekbone. The cut was dangerously close to my eye socket and I shuddered, turning my attention to my leg. 

Fresh gauze was now wrapped around the clean but otherwise horrendously mutilated portion of my thigh where both stab and bullet wound resided. Lucky was an understatement, since both had managed to miss the bone. It would need layers of stitches, probably, or a series of high level cure materia but I didn't care at the moment because I hadn't found any mako yet. The pain coursing through my face and leg paled in comparison to the deep relentless need for mako that had surfaced with alarming voracity. Since my physical injuries had been taken care of to the best of my ability, their priority rescinded and I had to address this other debilitation quickly. The fluorescent bulbs above the mirror irritated my eyes as I furiously tore through the contents of the side cabinet, searching. Under the sink. On top the cabinet. Along every linoleum tile, every crack in the floor or walls. Nothing there.

The headache was growing more severe, my mouth was dry, and now my skin felt cold. I tried to calm myself and went into the kitchen, scouring every cabinet, every drawer. Still no sign of any tiny green pills. Nothing. I was beginning to panic. Lastly, the bedroom.

Tifa was standing over my bed, holding a photograph in her hand. It was the black and white picture of her that Jude had given me, the only one I had of her. I had left it lying atop my desk.

"I remember when I took this photo... Cloud, if only I would have known that you'd be the next person holding it after I gave it to Jude," she said wistfully, sitting down gently on my bed and leaning against the red comforter piled next to my pillow.

"It's the only one I have, you know," I told her somewhat thoughtlessly as I pulled open the drawers in my desk, flipping through its contents frenetically.

"Are you... looking for something?" she asked finally, and added suspiciously, "You've been tearing this place apart."

"... Not really," I responded, now looking under the bed.

"What are you searching for?" She eyed me carefully, putting the photo down near the nightstand.

But I didn't respond because the cold was starting to make me shiver, my fingertips numbing.

"Cloud?"

"What?" I snapped without looking up.

"Do you at least have a cure materia around? Or a phone so we can call for help?" she asked timidly.

"Call who? And no, I don't have any materia," I informed her, and resumed tearing apart my closet, searching every piece of clothing, every pocket, for mako.

"Call our friends. Yuffie or Barret or Cid. Even Vincent or Nanaki!"

"I haven't spoken to them... in a long time. I'd rather not."

"Cloud..."

"What?" I finally turned to look at her, aggravated in my fruitless search.

"You look... sick. What did they do to you?" The concern was evident all over her face, her voice soft and caring.

"Nothing. I mean, well, aside from..." I motioned at the left half of my face, the residual sting and ache no longer registering as important.

"Hmm," she seemed not to believe me, but continued regardless, "Well, there's got to be a phone around here. We have to call someone to help us!"

Her wavering tone and the subtle shift in her gaze made me realize how dizzy she probably was, especially now that the adrenaline was starting to settle. We were out of immediate danger, and I had to stop thinking about myself and take care of her.

"Tif, you should lay down," I said softly, realizing how harsh my previous words had sounded, "Just rest a bit. Let me get you a glass of water and change the bandage on your shoulder."

She stared at me defiantly for a few fleeting seconds, then nodded once and moved her weight down further into the bed until she was lying flat. All at once, her muscles relaxed and she let out a sigh, wiping sweat from her forehead. After retrieving a glass of water from the kitchen and the roll of bandages along with a bottle of antiseptic from the bathroom, I returned to find her curled on her side with her eyes closed.

Slowly, I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to ignore the stubborn pain in my head. Instantly, her eyes snapped open and she gasped as though startled then relaxed once more. She drank the entire glass of water, then collapsed again.

"Didn't realize how weak –"

"You're not weak," I assured her, "You've suffered a huge injury."

"But we need to leave..."

"Let me help you first."

"And what about you?"

"I'll be fine."

She didn't say another word and looked the other way as I removed the dirty red bandage from her shoulder. Beneath it, the cloth of her shirt had been torn away and there was a dark red mass surrounded by cracking dried edges. She winced as I carefully cleaned the spot to reveal the actual wound hidden under the globs of blood. It had been crudely sewn shut with black thread by someone, but since there was no exit wound, I was worried that the bone beneath was shattered from stopping the bullet. And I hadn't seen her move her arm in the slightest, and it had to be excruciating. She was simply masking whatever pain she felt.

"How does it look?" she asked in a low voice.

The wound was smaller than I had expected, given the quantity of blood that was soaking down her side from it, causing her top to cling tightly to her skin.

"Well, if all this blood is just from your shoulder, then..." The situation was worse than I originally thought, yet it was hard to concentrate through the demanding pain in my head. "Whoever sewed this shut had no idea what he was doing."

It was all catching up to her now that we had stopped running, and although I was desperate to get some mako, I had to force myself to think of her well being.

I soaked her whole shoulder with antiseptic and covered it tight with a fresh clean bandage. Still, it wouldn't be enough. I had to somehow get her help, though I didn't know how I would manage that since I could hardly walk and the city outside was undoubtedly crawling with associates. The sinking sensation in my chest was pushed away by the vivid necessity burning through my spine. Her eyes closed and I remained seated next to her, gently touching her cheek and thinking of a way out of this mess, when I realized my hands were shaking.

My skin was getting colder and everything in my vision seemed less bright, edging towards a colorless world.

It hit me that I would not find any mako. Coming to the house was a terrible idea but I stayed next to Tifa, suppressing the shivers, trying to reason a safe way out. She opened her eyes a sliver and gazed up at me with a big smile, which felt like a punch to the face because I wasn't thinking about her at all but obtaining mako any way I could to stop the horrid coldness all over me. Guilt slid itself through my mind and I couldn't return the smile.

Suddenly, her eyes focused on something behind me and her smile vanished.

"Cloud!" she whispered fiercely, "I think there's someone outside in the hallway...!"

"What? You sure?" Adrenaline surged once more as I turned to follow her gaze, resting on the apartment door which was visible from a slight angle in the bedroom. But nothing appeared out of place.

"Yes. It looked like someone was pacing around right outside the door!" she said frantically.

"Okay, just relax. Let me think." But it was too hard to think now, the headache getting exponentially worse with each passing second.

"We can fight them... I know we can fight them..."

I didn't agree with her, because I knew I couldn't withstand anything more in my weakened condition. The cold was gradually being replaced with an unnatural heat, like fire creeping under my skin.

"Stay here..." I told her, but my voice was scratchy.

"Cloud... You look so pale..." she began, placing one slender hand on my cheek, but the warmth from her touch felt distant.

"Not now. Let me go take care of whoever is out there..." I replied, brushing her off and stepping into the hallway.

Stumbling through the kitchen, the world curved at angles I was unfamiliar with, and my brain ached to sort the mess my eyes were interpreting. My hand found the edge of the hilt hanging from my back, and I clutched it like it was my last anchor to reality.

Tifa was right. There was a shadow under the broken door from someone standing directly outside. Angered by the sheer resilience and determination of these people to kill me, I threw the door back ready to cut down whoever met my gaze. But the person standing there was not an assassin, not Jude, not even someone holding a weapon. It was a lanky guy with large frightened eyes, grasping a phone in his hands and staring at me in utter terror. I heard Tifa step into place behind me.

"Uh... Which one of you is... uh, Cloud?" the guy shook as he spoke.

"What the hell do you want?" I asked with a sigh, relaxing my arm and leaning against the doorframe to steady myself.

"H-here!" he yelped and held the phone out to me, "From Jude!"

"What...?" I mumbled, taking the phone from him. It was my phone. Suddenly it made sense. A form of communication, risk-free on his end. He wanted to talk.

Tifa jumped forward, grabbing the man by his collar and threw him against the wall with her good arm, her forearm pressed against his throat.

"Leave us alone," she rasped sharply to him.

"Tifa..." I held my hand up, putting it all together in my head, "He's just an operative. He's no assassin..."

The man nodded rapidly, eyes jerking between me and Tifa. She loosened her grip a bit and he fell down, trembling.

"D-don't kill the messenger!" he whimpered.

"What did Jude tell you?" I questioned him indifferent to his cowering.

"He said, uh, that I had to find Cloud at this address and give him this phone. Jude's gonna call it and if you're Cloud, then you better answer it... or Jude's gonna kill me!"

His fear was sickening. But all operatives were normally casual people with no fighting skills who just got mixed up with the wrong crowd, like Johnny. This guy meant nothing – no threat.

"Fine. Done. Now get out of here," I snapped at him, opening my phone and examining the battery on the back, checking for signs of tampering. But it was untouched. So Jude really did want to talk.

The operative ran down the hall, flying out of sight, clearly scared half to death. Pushing the door back on its hinges, I swiftly went back to my bedroom and sat on the bed again, holding my head in my hands. The pain was getting so much worse, the nausea too. And the heat under my skin was starting to feel itchy, especially around my wrists and neck.

"You're not seriously going to talk to him, are you?" Tifa shouted with disbelief, sitting next to me on the bed.

"If I don't, that guy dies," I responded with little emotion. It was just a fact.

"Well, at least we have a phone now. Let me call Yuffie," Tifa said and snatched the phone from me.

Staring blankly at the floor, a sinking hopeless feeling was firmly grinding into my belly, sending all thoughts spiraling downward. The reason why I kept taking mako in the first place. To avoid _that_ feeling. And here it was, smacking me in the face. Triumphant. I could hear Tifa speaking on the phone, but I wasn't paying attention to her words. Would it only get worse?

"Yuffie's been in Kalm with Denzel at Elmyra's," Tifa reported to me, hanging up the phone, "And she says she'll get Cid and come pick us up since I told them you lost your keys."

"I didn't lose my keys..." I replied.

She stared at me for a long moment in deep thought.

"Look," she started in a low voice, "I think we should just keep... everything between us."

I hadn't been intending to tell anyone, and it was clear she had more on her mind.

"I...I know it may be hard to believe, given our past," she continued softly, moving her hand over mine, "but I _am_ glad it was you that showed up in the bar that night and not someone else looking to collect my 25k price. I owe you my life. You...Well, I didn't know you would really go this far to protect me. I wasn't expecting to ever see you again. And I was just trapped in such despair...not because of you, because of everything else."

"Tifa, you don't have to say anything to me. You never did," I said truthfully, holding her hand in mine, which now felt more cold than anything, "I... I don't care about the reasons for what you did. It was a mistake. And it's over. You're safe with me."

"I still feel foolish. I hadn't even thought of you, or what could happen after I was gone..." She moved one hand to my face, touching my jaw delicately. "But I feel so much better... with you...now..." Her lashes fluttered and she looked at me with a seductive gaze.

I wanted to agree and push the pain in my body away so I could kiss her, but the phone in her hands suddenly began ringing. We both just stared at it, knowing who it was. With little recourse, I answered the phone with all the hesitation of someone putting their hand in a hornet's nest.

"...Your little torture didn't work, Jude," I said immediately into the receiver.

"Ah, Cloud. I'm glad my operative reached you. No doubt you're at your house, like I predicted." The grainy voice was unusually friendly.

"Thanks for breaking the locks. You owe me a new door," I told him. Tifa shifted uncomfortably on the bed, once more lying back and exhaling exhaustedly.

"You must be in a lot of pain by now without any mako," he mocked, "Tell me, have you ripped your skin off from itching yet? I've heard that's the worse. The sensation is often compared to a feeling of razor blades under the flesh."

"What do you want?" I asked tersely.

"So you haven't gotten that far yet. No matter. You will. But let me be frank. Nobody has ever managed to escape from me like you have, and I'm impressed. Now, I'm no idiot. I see a good business opportunity when one presents itself." A pause as he inhaled smoke.

"Don't come after us. I won't let you hurt her."

"That's what I find so fascinating. Your determination. Your complete loyalty to a cause."

"Get to the point."

"Killing you is worthless. You're much more valuable to me alive now that I see what you're capable of. I've got a couple of decent business acquisitions in progress – expansion into the Wutai province and strengthening support around the Gold Saucer area. Instead of killing you, I want someone loyal like you at my side."

"...What?"

"Work with me. Be my right hand man. I told you how much alike we are. You know it's true. You love this job, and I love this business because we both understand it's more than just blood. It's power."

I waited, unsure of what to reply.

"Power," he went on grimly, "And fear. Control. I need someone like you who shares my ideals."

"...What makes you think I could be trustworthy anymore?" I asked suspiciously.

"Lies infuriate me, that's true. But I can be forgiving if the situation calls for it. I expected you dead by now. It's clear that my grudge against you is irrelevant in light of recent events."

"And how can I trust you?"

"I don't fucking lie, that's how." His tone was deadly.

"No. No, I don't want any part of it. Just leave me and Tifa alone," I said at once.

"It doesn't work that way. I'm not asking your fucking opinion. I'm giving you a way out because I see something in you. You remind me of myself."

"So then I refuse."

He let out a long sad sigh. "Then I am going to kill you. If it's not today or tomorrow, you can bet that I will not relent until your miserable corpse shows up in the obituaries. Is that what you want? Is that what your girl wants? Because she will be just as dead."

The itching under my wrists was becoming more than just a discomfort, but I refused to submit. Tifa was studying me with concern.

"So that's it? That's your offer?" I mumbled, my lips cracked.

"It's an opportunity you can't afford to pass up. Not to mention that you won't last much longer without some mako. And I've heard you had a nasty run-in with Lars' accountant. He won't be too willing to sell to you now, I think." He let the words sink in because he knew he was right. "Tell you what, Cloud. Come work with me and unlimited quantities of mako are yours. In fact, I happen to have some right here in front of my eyes. I don't use the stuff myself, though."

My throat tightened at the mention of it, my skin crawling.

"I'll be sitting in the café, Cloud, waiting for your decision. If you are smart, you'll accept and come meet me. If you are stupid and decline, then you and your girl are good as dead."

He hung up. The sudden silence made me panic because I wanted to say something back, maybe even beg him to relinquish some mako.

"Well...?" Tifa demanded instantly.

"He's going to kill us... unless I work for him again."

"What?" She practically jumped from the shock. "He can't be serious! And you can't seriously be considering... Cloud, it's insane to even go near him. Let's wait for Yuffie and Cid and just get out of here. Never come back!"

"I... We won't ever be safe if he's..." I trailed off because the truth was his offer intrigued me.

I needed the mako, yes, but he was regretfully correct in saying I liked the job. Embedded in me was something that enjoyed watching the moment of death consume someone. Fighting was all I had ever really known ever since leaving town at 14. I was too restless to do that delivery service shit back in Edge anymore. There was no calm for me, ever. Idleness and easy work made me think more. About everything. And I tried to avoid that. And of course, there was the mako.

"I'm going to meet him at the café," I stated.

"No! No, no, no. He's going to kill you!" Tifa shouted.

"No, he won't. He wants me to work with him because of some big merger or expansion or something." I could hardly concentrate anymore, the hot itching at my wrists growing unbearable.

"You're hurt! You can't walk all the way over there! You can't fight in your condition either! We're going to wait for Yuffie and Cid," she concluded.

"Tifa... I'm sorry, but if I don't meet with him... I don't know what will happen." The pain, the coldness, the heat, the nausea, the shaking, the headache, the sweat, the crawling feeling on my skin, the awful drain of the colors around me. How much worse could it all get?

"Please, don't go..." Tifa begged, grabbing my arm.

"I have to."

"Then I'll go with you, just in case you have to put up a fight, you won't be alone. I can tell Yuffie to get over there, too," she went on, grasping my arm tighter.

"No. You can't go with me. I can't put your life at risk in case it is a trap. If anything, just stay away. I can handle it." I pushed myself from the bed, trying hard to level the dizziness.

"And if something does go wrong...?" Tifa argued back.

"Nothing will. I just...need you to wait here for Yuffie and Cid. Take the airship over to Kalm and stay there for now. I'll come for you when it's been settled. And if you ... still want me in your life, then I'll come back with you to Edge." I held her hand, pulling it off my arm, and then letting it drop to her side. "If not, then that's fine. I'll be okay just knowing you're safe..."

"I want you to come with me _now_, just leave this place," she pleaded.

"I'm sorry..." I turned away, walking carefully towards the front door, which still hung hazardously on its hinges.

"I can't believe you're doing this..." she muttered.

There was no other choice. Jude was a threat and if there was a way I could end it without putting her in danger, then so be it.

"Please, remember what I said and wait for me in Kalm," I said calmly to her, but she was facing the opposite direction, one hand on her hip in defiance.

I hated leaving her alone after so much had happened, but the lure of mako was overpowering my logic. It was a necessity to end the waves of pain spiking through me. With help on the way for her, she would be fine.

"And if you never return...?" Tifa asked solemnly.

"Then," I paused at the doorway, glancing over my shoulder at her, "I'm not sure what you should do. But you're smart and strong. You'll be fine..." Hardly comforting words, but I needed to reach Jude as fast as possible if there were any chance he was telling the truth.

She tightened her lips with a frown and nodded shallowly.

Without further words, I left the apartment, limping down the staircase and into the street. Everything was painful, but I tried to only focus on getting to the café and getting mako. The air was becoming more humid as the morning progressed and dark clouds were accumulating at the horizon, moving towards Junon.

There would be another storm, no doubt.


	13. Drowned

- Drowned -

* * *

My leg was nearly numb and the cuts on my face stung horribly with every slight breeze off the ocean, but the bleeding had at last stopped. Intent on making it to the upper tier district, I drudged painfully onward through the slums, breathing in short gasps as the heat began crawling along my ribs and into my stomach. The itchy feeling that had been creeping up my arms was now much more severe, like tiny blades slicing apart the flesh under my skin. Just as Jude had said. 

The café was far and eventually I saw an airship fly by overhead, landing back near my apartment building. Cid's, from the looks of it. At least Tifa would be safe and could get her shoulder taken care of, I rationalized. After so many long moments of walking, I finally gave up and simply began pulling myself along the sides of buildings, trying to get as much weight off my leg as possible. And for the first time, I regretted not carrying materia. Even a low level cure would've helped.

The slums tapered off into the commercial district and the streets slowly became more crowded. Judging from the looks several people were giving me, mostly ones of pity or revulsion, I surmised that my appearance was less than appealing. But I didn't care. Things were fading away faster than before, utter hopelessness influencing my painful trek forward. For some reason, I never thought I would be affected by the withdrawal symptoms since the real Mako in my bloodstream kept me safe from other side-effects.

"Hey man, don't worry. You'll make it through it," a voice said kindly from behind me.

I turned to see a man around my age smiling at me with sympathy.

"What do you want?" I spat.

"I know what you're going through. I've been clean for almost 3 months now, and I just wanted you to know that it gets easier," he said politely, "Those first few days are absolute hell, but you'll be happy to kick the habit once it's over. Just hang in there."

"Right. Thanks, I guess. But I'll be fine." I reacted with agitation, immediately turning away from him and resuming my unsteady course to the café. The last thing I needed was distractions and obstacles.

He shrugged and continued on his way, as did I, grateful to be rid of the irrelevant chatter. Minutes dragged on, but I kept going. I must've looked worse than I thought because I got several more encouraging comments from ex-mako junkies, while the real junkies would just glare at me ominously, patting their pockets as if to protect their own precious supply of mako.

At last, the tiny café perched over the tier appeared at the end of the block. The sun was now high, and the pain unbearable. My chest and neck were burning hot like small blades cutting beneath my skin, and the headache was pounding so loudly it was impossible to see straight. Through the glass window of the café, I saw Jude sitting at his usual table, coffee in hand, cigarette in mouth like always.

Limping over, I pushed the door open, the tiny bell jingling at the top to alert the staff of a new customer. But the waitress didn't move when she saw me, her eyes just widening a bit. Slowly, I walked over to the table and sat down in the seat opposite Jude. The café was unusually crowded, and the other customers immediately turned their heads away the moment I sat down, pretending not to have been staring.

"Jude..." I breathed the word in contempt.

"I was worried you may not show. It took you a while to get here," he said indifferently, then threw my keys on the table. I didn't reach for them.

He looked me over, his eyes trailing down the cut on my face, and scoffed.

"I see you didn't exactly get away unscathed from that little basement session." He grinned.

"Neither did your two assassins. They're dead," I said bluntly.

He took a sip from his coffee mug and placed it back on the table, one hand unconsciously trailing over the scar down his neck.

"How did you manage that, I wonder?" he asked softly, narrowing his eyes, "Last I saw, you were chained to a chair with a gunshot in your leg which should have caused you to bleed out, though my two associates were supposed to accelerate that for you."

"Why should you care?" I responded while trying hard to keep my breathing steady and my vision straight.

"It's just ... interesting that you're the only one to ever escape that. Aside from myself, of course." The finger trailing down his scar suddenly paused. For a brief second, his eyes fell to the floor and the muscles in his jaw tensed. Then he cleared his throat and looked back at me. "You're here. So you accept," he ventured to guess.

"No. I need the mako," I replied plainly, "And I need you to leave her alone for good."

A little laugh escaped his sneering smile.

"That's where you made a fatal mistake," he informed me.

"And what would that be?"

"You let me see your weakness. And when an enemy sees your weakness, they can exploit it. They gain that power over you," he explained.

"My weakness...?"

"Her. That woman you so dearly protect. You've let me know how important she is to you, how badly you would be hurt if something were to happen to her." Another cruel smile.

"You can't kill her."

"Care to bet on that? But maybe you shouldn't since you don't have any money to risk," he said harshly.

"Then what do you want?"

"Accept my offer and all is forgiven. You and your girl will be untouched and all the mako in my pocket is yours. Reject, and she will die. As will you subsequently."

"How about I just kill you here and now, instead?" I growled, reaching for my sword.

"Ah, I wouldn't do that if I were you. Notice how crowded the café is today, hmm? Familiar faces?"

I glanced around the tiny room, examining the other patrons. More than half were other assassins working under him. It was a trap, like Tifa had said.

Jude nodded over my shoulder at someone sitting directly behind me and I heard sudden movement. If it weren't for the intense headache pounding through my skull or the crawling sensation suffocating my skin, I would have reacted quicker, but my whole body felt dull and sluggish. A knife was suddenly at my throat, held there tight by the person who had rushed behind me. Jude's eyes never left mine and I felt the tiny blade cutting into my neck instantly.

"Don't move a fucking muscle," Jude instructed me, voice low and rigid.

The other assassins in the café had stood, staring over at us and the few people who were authentic customers took one look at what was happening and bolted out. The waitress stayed motionless at the counter.

"It's a bit... bright in here, don't you think? All these big windows and that glare from the sun off the ocean..." Jude said sardonically, "Why don't we continue this conversation somewhere less ...conspicuous."

I gritted my teeth as the assassin behind me pushed the blade closer, slicing open the top few layers of my skin. Another associate stood behind me and unsheathed the katana off my back in one quick motion, handing it to Jude.

"I've been meaning to ask for this back," Jude said with a smile, looking down at the sword in his hands.

The other six-bladed sword was removed as well, and I tried hard to conceal my rising panic. The two associates twisted my arms behind my back and wrenched me up from the chair, the dagger still at my throat. Jude stood and walked towards the swinging doors behind the counter that led to the kitchen, winking at the waitress as he passed her, and the two assassins followed, dragging me after him. My leg screamed in protest with violent jolts of pain, but it felt distant in comparison to the increasingly desperate need for mako. The heat under my skin shot up in rivets along my arms and spine, my vision saturated in gray.

As they dragged me past the waitress, I caught her eye and she immediately turned away, biting her lip, her eyes avoiding mine. It was clear she did not want them to do whatever they were going to do, or perhaps it was solely pity for my current state, but she did not try to stop Jude in the slightest. A few of the other associates remained in the main section of the café, and I saw the waitress fold her arms across her chest, head down, before the swinging door cut her from my view.

We were in a small kitchen, which was strangely devoid of any chefs. They brought me behind a row of metal cutting boards, most of which still had half-finished meals prepared on them, and held me kneeling on the tiled floor next to a wall of iron grills and ovens. Everything spun and blurred, so it was difficult to get a clear estimation of how large the room was or what else was around me. An unfamiliar man suddenly appeared from the second doorway further past the refrigerators, from what I suspected could be an office. He was a short balding man, though I couldn't quite see his face clear enough.

"What the fuck is this?" he shouted to Jude, "You thugs can't just use my shop like this!"

Jude paused and turned, the katana still in his hands.

"I pay the monthly fee to you," the man continued, sounding less assertive and more frightened, "I pay and I let you sit in my café and have your meetings, and I treat all your people politely, but I will _not_ let you torture someone in my kitchen!"

Jude tilted his head to one side and I saw his hands tighten around the hilt of the sword. The assassin with the dagger to my throat began chuckling.

The man kept talking, his voice now shaky, "I-I won't let you kill that guy here! You all just take that sort of business elsewhere!"

There was a single flash of movement as Jude swung the katana in a twisting arc fast, slitting the man's throat with frightening precision. Half a second lapsed and the body fell dead, a stream of dark liquid down his chest. Though the sight of blood had an odd calming effect, my heart still coiled in my chest because I realized Tifa had been correct – they were going to kill me.

Jude wiped the edge of the blade on the dead man's shoulder indifferently and then turned his attention back to me.

"Now then," he began, "This is how it's going to work. Usually I would let these other two associates handle something like this, but seeing as how you killed the last two I left alone with you, you're going to have to deal with me. And here's the deal. I'm going to slice you up a bit, then I'm going to ask you a question. Depending on how you respond, I will either continue to cut you up and then ask the same question until you get it right, or if you answer correctly, I will let you and your girl live. If you never get the question right, then you bleed to death in this kitchen on the floor and we kill that woman from Edge."

"You really want me to work for you?" I asked, feeling the knife at my neck move slightly as I spoke. The previous blood loss from my leg and face had left me in a steadily weakening condition, not to mention the nausea, headache, and near paralysis brought on by the lack of mako.

"That's the idea. I need someone dedicated to a cause. And I need someone who's good at this job to help me secure additional mako suppliers from Wutai," he responded and I thought I saw the other two associates look slightly dejected for a second. My mouth watered when he mentioned mako.

"It's flawed," I managed to say, "It's all flawed. You can't coerce loyalty from someone."

But the katana suddenly swiped downward in a controlled stab, cutting me along the ribs and fresh blood immediately leaked outward. The tip of the sword then moved upwards, quick and unexpected, slicing open my bottom lip. I winced and sucked in my breath, feeling the blood trail down to my chin.

"Okay," Jude began with a sigh as though he were simply completing an everyday job, "So do you accept my offer? You work for me in exchange for your girl's safety and your own?"

"F-Fuck you, Jude," I spat at his feet.

He let out a laugh and pulled a small cylinder from his pocket, which I knew contained tiny green pills. It was mako. My breath caught in my lungs.

"It would be a shame," he said, holding the cylinder between his thumb and index finger, mockingly, "if you were to die here because then you would never know when we would kill your dear little bitch from Edge. Or, more importantly, _how_ we would kill her."

Another cut, sudden and stinging, tore across my stomach, deeper than the first. Instantly, I curled up, but the two associates still held my arms behind my back so I could not staunch the blood flow, though the dagger was finally removed from my neck. Then there was a heavy kick to my stomach, hard, knocking my breath out and I coughed, tasting blood. The physical pain was beginning to overtake my senses.

"Here we are again. Do you accept my offer?" Jude asked plainly, throwing the mako on the floor. My eyes followed the cylinder as it slid across the tiles, hitting the wall directly to my right, but I was still restrained and could not reach for it no matter how badly I needed it.

"You... can't..." I wanted to say something witty or biting, but my words were lost in my mouth. My lower lip was swollen and pain covered my body, though I kept my eyes on the mako next to me.

This time the blade stabbed forward, puncturing my shoulder and I squeezed my eyes shut, a tumultuous hot pain exploding around the wound. I bit my lip hard to prevent myself from screaming, breathing out in short strangled gasps.

Jude spoke calmly again, "You should know that I've avoided severing any major arteries or perforating any internal organs because I want you alive as long as possible. I want to watch you experience the slow pain of death."

Sweat was all over my face, my heartbeat was insanely rapid, and the blood gushing down my shoulder numbed me.

"I wonder what I should do to your girl once I find her a second time. Since you'll be dead, you won't be able to protect her," Jude called to me, "Maybe I'll have some fun with her again."

My entire body was shuddering involuntarily, but I still looked up at him when I heard him speak. "You won't... go near her! I won't ...allow it!" I said through gasps.

"You aren't in any position to stop me from doing whatever I want to her," he said, "You may have saved her from me before, but once you're dead, I will find her and I will cut her up, slowly. I will dismember her piece by piece. I will take each finger, each limb, and peel every muscle off her bone. And I'm sure she will scream out for help – hell, maybe she'll even scream out for you – but there will be nothing! Nothing to stop it! Nothing to save her!"

But she was safe in Kalm, I told myself. Even if I got killed, she would stay with Elmyra or maybe Barret and she would be safe. She could take care of herself. Again the katana flashed through the air at me and tore through the raw flesh on the left side of my face, directly over the cut I had received at the hands of the two dead assassins in that basement. Blood spattered on the floor at my feet, droplets streaming off my face in quick succession.

"Stop!" I shouted finally because I was cold and numb and knew I would lose consciousness soon. Regardless of the Jenova thriving in my body or the Mako shielding my cells, I would die if he continued. Already there were slices and punctures covering my chest and arms in slippery red, and my vision was dimming. Everything was slowing down, my bones freezing. The pain was nothing but unfiltered signals in my brain. "Stop..."

Jude's posture straightened and he held the sword casually to one side. He spoke down at me, "So now I think you realize there is no choice in the matter. I know your weakness for this woman, so you are at my mercy. You should never let an opponent see your weakness. So I'll ask you again. Do you accept my offer?"

Options were severely limited. The necessity for mako was driving me crazy, and it was clear he would kill me unless I accepted. There was only one way out if I wanted to live to protect her, but what it all came down to was trust.

"Think quickly because I doubt you can sustain any further rounds of this game."

And her safety was a risk I was not about to take.

"F-Fine," I forced the words out, staring at the floor, "I accept. You know that... I need the mako...and I need her. You're right. I ...don't have a choice. Just... promise you won't fucking touch her."

"Good to see you've come to your senses," he said with a huge smile. "I knew you would accept. Together we will be a formidable presence in this region and the further expanses into Wutai."

The two associates released my arms and I fell forward, flat on my stomach, immediately curling up on the floor. Blood was everywhere.

"If we're done here, I have a few calls to make," Jude's tone was once more cold and contemptuous, the smile gone, "Keep your phone on. I'll need you in a few days. Now go clean yourself up. And give my regards to your girl." He turned to leave, then paused as if remembering something, "Oh, and you can keep this for a while longer."

He threw the katana down and it clattered to the floor near my head. The other associates stepped over me and walked back towards the swinging door leading into the main section of the café.

"And don't forget your keys are still out on the table," Jude called back to me offhand, "And the mako is somewhere on the floor. But kick the fucking habit so someone doesn't confuse you with those pathetic junkies. It's not good to have any weaknesses in this world."

Without another word, they left and I lay on the floor, breathing out in relief. Blindly, I reached for the cylinder Jude had tossed to the ground before. Finding it against the metal siding of the rows of ovens, I immediately pried open the top and popped two of the pills in my mouth, closing my eyes. The kitchen became silent and I took a deep breath, waiting for the mako to kick in.

It struck me that the multitude of cuts and the amount of blood loss coupled with the fact that I physically could not move myself because of the intense pain rippling through every muscle meant that I was resigned to simply lay there and bleed to death. The numbness was absolute, and I wondered what Tifa would think if I never returned. But she was out of this mess, officially safe. The café owner's body lay crumpled across the kitchen aisle, pale, surrounded by a pool of his blood, and I thought I would soon mirror his condition.

Yet the panic hadn't left me. There was no huge sensation of calm that I thought would possibly accompany death. There was only severe debilitating pain and something close to regret. Fuck, it hurt. But I needed to do something other than lay there and die. I couldn't die; it was as simple as that.

I rolled onto my side, ignoring every jolt, every ache, and wiped the blood away from my left eye. My lungs seized and I couldn't stop coughing, my stomach tense and sore, split open. A series of light footsteps caused my eyes to open and I found myself looked up at the waitress who had been standing by the counter. Her hand was clasped over her mouth and her eyes were wide, blinking rapidly.

The waitress leaned over me, pushing back an errant strand of short blond hair with her free hand.

"You're...uh, one of Jude's people?" she asked hesitantly, frightened.

"Yeah," I mumbled best I could, attempting to sit up.

"Don't move, honey. I think I have something that might help." She reached through the pockets of her apron, finally retrieving a small green orb. Materia. A halfway mastered cure, by the looks of it. "I don't really know how to use it, but I think it's the kind that healers use. I got it as a gift from an ex."

"Why...are you...helping me?" I asked, immediately wary of her connection to Jude.

"Because you're one of Jude's. And even if the other girls think he's bad news, I always try to help if I can," she responded with a forced happy smile, "Can you use this one then?"

"Yeah, I can," I said and she handed the materia to me.

I held the cure in my fist, the dim iridescent hue brightening as I focused on it. I hadn't used a materia for quite some time, so the abrupt whisper of a thousand voices in my head startled me for just a second. The voices of the Lifestream. The Ancients. It only happens for a brief moment, but it is a harsh reminder that materia is nothing but condensed Mako, made from the Lifestream. Then there is a slight pulling sensation, downward towards the planet, as the energy within the materia is utilized. The Mako fused inside me always reacted in sync with materia, augmenting the natural effects. A bright green trail of shimmering light sprung from my palm, arching up my arm and circling me, and a soothing rush like cool water drops wrapped around my skin for half a second before instantly dissipating into the air. The green glow faded.

"Wow, you really do know how to use it! I need to learn, too. Then maybe I can be Jude's personal nurse," the waitress kept chatting on.

The skin on my leg and face had mostly resealed itself, pulled together with regenerated cells. But the materia she had was not mastered, so the effects were not as complete as they should be. I stood, testing the weight on my leg. A dull ache resided still, but it was no longer unbearable, and the cut down my face was a thin scarred line, the torn diagonal pieces no longer raw flesh, but not totally healed. The other cuts across my chest and stomach and the stab in my shoulder had sealed entirely because they were more recent, though my shirt was still covered in wet blood.

Examining the materia in the light, I cleared my throat and asked, "So you...work for him?" The materia was exhausted for now, though, so I handed it back to her. Better than nothing.

She giggled a bit. "I wish. I only do what I can to make him comfortable. Maybe one day he'll notice me..." she went on longingly.

"You _want_ to work for him?" I couldn't conceal my surprise.

"I just wish I could see him more often. I'd do anything for him, if only he knew!" she squealed.

Apparently the money, power, and striped suit was enough to outweigh the fact that he's a sadistic murderer who would extort, blackmail, and torture people to get what he wants.

"I wonder if Jude has a girlfriend..." she continued, mostly to herself.

Ignoring her last remark, I sheathed the katana on my back and began walking towards the swinging doors so I could get my keys. The waitress was staring dumbly at the green marble in her palm.

"Hey, wait!" she called to me, "W-what am I supposed to do about this...this dead body? I-I've never seen a corpse before!" She pointed down at the former owner.

The pain under my skin and the numbness slowly dissipated as the mako took effect.

"I'm sure Jude will send a clean-up," I told her, though I had no idea if this was true. Clean-ups were typically new associates or operatives whose only tasks were disposing of bodies killed in public areas and diverting the attention of the locals via whatever means necessary.

Stumbling out into the main area of the café, now entirely empty, I sat at the nearest table for a little while, holding my head in my hands and simply gazed out at the ocean, gray and daunting under black clouds. The delicate calmness of mako enveloped me and my heartbeat slowed, colors returning to my vision. A new appreciation for the peace within me arose, and I suddenly thought of Tifa.

As the withdrawal symptoms subsided, a resurgence of physical pain from my leg and face took precedence. And now I had my phone and my keys and mako. Everything was turning out alright. My servitude to Jude was merely a byproduct of something greater that I had gained because now Tifa would be okay. I was becoming very sleepy, the adrenaline long gone and the world settling back into clarity.

The waitress stood by the door, looking out frantically and deterring any customers from entering. After the shivers and heat disappeared and the pain had melted into that hazy blanket of elation, I knew I had to go to Kalm and see Tifa. The dizziness and blinding headache was gone, so I stood and grabbed my other sword that still lay fallen near the table Jude had sat at. Without another moment I made my way towards the door, and the waitress stepped to one side to allow me to pass.

"What should I do?" she asked me anxiously, "I-I don't know what to do. I guess I'll close the café and wait for that clean-up you told me about. But...but maybe I should just leave. Oh, I don't know! Are you leaving now? D-don't forget to tell Jude that I helped you!"

"Right," I replied, not caring to inform her that Jude and I were not exactly friends. He may not appreciate anyone helping me, after all, but I nodded to her curtly and left. The body in the kitchen was her problem now, but I was certain Jude would send someone to handle it, as I had told her. He never left loose ends around the city.

A light rain was drizzling outside, the black clouds moving ever closer. I made my way through the streets, towards the parking garage where my bike was. Now that Jude no longer wanted to kill me and the materia had partially healed me, I could walk with ease. At some point, I would have to settle up with Lars, but that was irrelevant at the moment. How exactly I would explain the situation to Tifa was the growing concern. That's all I thought about as I entered the garage, nearing my bike. Thunder rumbled off in the distance, over the ocean. I would have to tell her the truth, of course, and just hope that she would understand why I had to give my allegiance to Jude in spite of everything.

Of course, I had no intention of following through with his plan if Tifa still wanted me in her life. But agreeing with him was the only way I would have survived. Since Tifa had seemingly become so averse to killing, I knew I couldn't just tell her that I was planning to execute Jude in order to return to Edge with her. She would probably disapprove and that could potentially make her less inclined to let me live with her again. Whatever I said to her, it would have to be tactful. Yet there was something else within me that was almost happy to still be in a job where cutting people apart was routine.

With a crack of sudden thunder, the rain came down in sheets outside the concrete parking garage. Storing my swords tightly away in my bike, I sighed realizing how horribly in love with her I was. Jude was right. She was my weakness. I suppose I was hers as well. And I finally began understanding why she had asked me to leave so long ago, and what her words meant that night in the bar when I returned – why she didn't want me to touch her because we would fall back into that unhealthy obsession with one another. Surviving through as much as we did together will do that to two people.

It began in Nibelheim, yes, but everything else had, too. The town of the dead. Yet when she rescued me from the basement I still felt that intense connection between us. And why would she have bothered to look for me if she didn't still care for me? The matter was no longer in my hands, however, and I resolved to return to her in Kalm, tell her what happened and await her decision. Ultimately I wanted to be with her, but things were never that simple. Never clean cut.

As I left Junon, the storm only worsened, tearing the ocean into violent swells and punctures.


	14. Precipice

- Precipice in a Starless Sky -

* * *

Kalm was just as its named aptly suggested. The mining town remained a quiet alternative to city life, giving people some distance from Midgar and Edge, yet retaining the benefits of its proximity to the former largest city. I had just been in Kalm two weeks ago on a job and had positively avoided Elmyra's house at all costs. Now I stood at the door, just staring reflectively at its solid wooden paneling. Cid's airship was parked on the outskirts of the city, so without a doubt he and Tifa would be inside. Looking up, I noticed the curtains of the window upstairs fall back quickly as though someone had been watching me. I thought it would be impolite to just walk in, so I knocked apprehensively and waited.

Elmyra opened the door and her cheeks curved up in a grin as she recognized me.

"Cloud? Is that you? Oh my, come in, come in. They've been waiting for you. Are you alone?" she asked.

"Yeah..." I replied, wondering why that would be important.

"Then come in, come in!" Her hand darted out, grasping my arm, and she pulled me fiercely in, shutting the door behind me.

I followed her through the kitchen into the living room, unsure of my reception but determined more than ever to see Tifa again. The tiny room, cluttered with dozens of cozy antiques that made it feel more claustrophobic than homey, hadn't changed at all since I had last been there so long ago. In the center of the huge maroon couch sat Denzel slumped in general malcontent next to Tifa who was letting Marlene braid her hair in one long chunk down her shoulders. Yuffie sat cross-legged on the floor, twirling a throwing star between her fingers lazily, and Cid was leaning back against the wall, arms folded over his chest. All eyes turned to stare as I entered. Tifa immediately smiled.

"Cloud, you're alright," Tifa breathed the words with a tiny smile. Her shoulder was entirely healed, much to my relief.

Marlene was the only other one that smiled. "Cloud!" She jumped up and ran to hug me. Hugging her hesitantly, I looked over her shoulder at Tifa, whose eyes were trailing down the scar on my face.

"Marlene..." I smiled at her.

"I haven't seen you in so long! I was worried! Where have you been? Are you back for good now?" she asked exhaustively, then paused as she took a good look at me, "What happened to your face, Cloud? And your clothes...? Is that blood?"

She was nine years old and gazed at me with scrutiny in a fashion that reminded me explicitly of Tifa. But I didn't immediately respond, because judging by the looks on everyone's face, I was expected to openly explain it to all.

"Yeah, Cloud, what is wrong with your face?" Yuffie chipped in, "Sword fall on you or something?"

"Tifa, I need to talk to you," I stated, my eyes directly on Tifa.

"No way. You're not getting out of this one, Cloud," Yuffie snapped playfully, pointing up at me.

"Tifa..." I said again, silently begging her to comply.

"I told you this would be a waste of fucking time," Cid dryly added, lighting a cigarette.

Denzel frowned up at me and Marlene just watched with confusion. It seemed Tifa had told no one what had happened.

"Listen, everyone," I began, holding my hands up as if to halt the stares, "I can't explain anything to you. Not yet at least."

"Big surprise..." Denzel muttered sarcastically.

I ignored him and looked once more at Tifa.

"Tifa... Please, I need to talk to you...privately," I stressed.

She nodded at last and stood without saying a word, walking back through the kitchen to the staircase. After glancing back at the others, none of whom seemed particularly satisfied with the general secrecy I was adhering to, I followed Tifa upstairs. Together we retreated to the attic room, which was now being used as storage space, up in the tower that protruded slightly from the roof. Through the window view, the shadow of Midgar and its spawn, Edge, lay splotched on the horizon like spilled ink on the green fields. Boxes of old things, contents indeterminable, lay piled around us amongst old furniture and other oddities. Once the door was closed, I immediately moved close to her.

"Are you alright?" I asked quietly, restraining the desire to hug her tight.

"I'm fine now. I healed my shoulder with a spare materia, but I'm more concerned about you. I wasn't sure if I would ever see you again," she said, reaching one hand up and gently caressing my face, "I thought for sure Jude would kill you."

"No, he has no intention to now," I told her, bringing my arms around her shoulders.

She pulled away, revulsion in her eyes as she realized what I meant.

"You...you agreed to his terms?" she asked with disgust, "Cloud, how could you? That guy would just as easily torture you and leave you for dead!"

"He won't. It's over now," I said to her softly, purposefully neglecting to mention that he had already tried to do just that, and added, "You'll be safe."

"But then what? You still work for him? You're his...his sidekick now or something?" she replied angrily.

"I didn't have a choice. And he would have killed you without a second thought. I was dead if I didn't agree. We both were," I argued back in defense.

She stepped back, shaking her head with a sad frown.

"Why...? Why do you do this all for me?" she asked quietly.

"You know why. And this was the only way it would end without anyone else dying," I said and stepped towards her, "And isn't that what you wanted?"

"But is this what _you_ want? Or did you just do it because you thought it would be best for me?"

"Both."

Silence swallowed the air for a moment as she paused in contemplation.

"Then you're going back to Junon?" she implied with a hint of sorrow.

"That depends on you," I responded, extending my hand to her.

She looked down at my arm then up into my eyes without moving.

"I don't know if I can...go through it again," she trembled, "...with you."

"I won't hurt you." My throat felt tight.

"Cloud...it's different now. Things are different. It can't just be what I want. I need someone who won't be involved with people like Jude, someone positive for Denzel to look up to, and someone for me to always rely on, someone I can count on coming home every night. Not someone who kills for a living, disappearing whenever you're beckoned by the same man who ordered your execution."

"He realizes now that I did it all to protect you," I interjected.

"But you're being used. Doesn't that bother you?" She narrowed her eyes, mouth open in shock.

"No. Because it's what I want."

"You _want_ to be used?" she asked, eyes wide.

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that. The offer he made. I wanted it. To work for him and have you safe is what I wanted. Tifa, you are too important to me..." But the more I talked, the less control I had over the logic panning out in my head because my sentiments for her were intruding.

She did not speak for some time, merely closing her eyes, and I worried our relationship was beyond redemption. Suddenly, I wanted her at my side more than anything, imaging an ideal scenario of us together back in Midgar or Edge, back a few years prior. Before things were complicated. Before Junon or Geostigma. Before Meteor even. Without Mako or ShinRa or Avalanche. Just us.

"Cloud," she began slowly, opening her eyes, "You are important to me, too. But...I'm so tired of the death that follows us. I don't want any part in it anymore. I had so much guilt over what we did in Avalanche... But then after seeing you show up again, seeing what you were willing to do for me... It made me think about us again. And I do want to be with you. But not like this. Not at this cost."

"I told you, I'm fine," I interrupted, not willing to let her talk herself away from me again. I'll cut Jude up if you want, I wanted to say, but any additional death would undoubtedly upset her, especially if I made it clear that I would kill anyone for her.

"But don't you see that you almost died because of me? I hate to think about what they would have done to you if I hadn't found you in that basement..." She covered her mouth with her hand for a moment as if in horrific thought. But I knew it was more than just her fear for my safety.

"You once told me," I started carefully, "That the pain of losing someone would never go away. That over time it would lessen, but it would never be gone. And you were right. Zack and Aerith have been dead for years yet I still think of them, I still wonder what I could have done differently. But at least I can accept that they are dead now. You taught me to do that. And yet now...you need to realize, too, that it won't ever go away. The guilt. It never dies."

"Cloud..."

"I'm only repeating what you told me. After the Geostigma was cured, you told me I had a second chance, a new life – one that you wanted us to share together. You said the only way we could move anywhere was by going forward. And I was finally able to see...see what you had been trying to tell me before."

"So this is..." she trailed off softly, eyes downcast.

"I don't know how I've affected your life, or if my absence altered anything, but coming this close to losing you... I can't ask you to do anything because I'm in no position to be making demands, but maybe we could just..." All I was trying to ask for was another chance with her.

"If you are working for Jude, though, then I'm a liability. I would never be safe with you," she said conclusively, folding her arms around her ribcage. "You would never be free of it."

A weakness was what she was getting at. She was a weakness. But neither one of us wanted to directly address that issue, the one that was really plaguing our relationship. Our devotion to the other made us weak, vulnerable at the most basic level. We had both lost enough in our lives to understand what one more death would mean. The risk was unacceptable. Nevertheless, I wanted to try.

"None of that matters."

"No," she shook her head, "No, I can't have you living with me if you're going to be...doing that work still. It's too dangerous. For you, for me, for Denzel."

"Then I won't live with you, if that's what you want."

"It's not what I want, but it's what's best. For everyone, I think." Her words were concrete, but her body leaned towards me.

"Then what will you do?" I asked, resting one hand on her shoulder.

"Go back to bartending, I suppose. But... Cloud..."

"Yes?"

"It does feel like a new life..."

With a tiny smile, she suddenly hugged me tight, tucking her chin against my shoulder, and my arms fell around her slender frame. A surge of happiness filled my chest as we embraced because I felt whole, even though she held onto me in a way that spoke only of finality. We couldn't be together, or so she had decided. But the connection ran deeper than that. Deeper than love or lust or friendship. Something I couldn't comprehend. She had saved my life, and in some splintered ways I had saved hers as well.

"I'll visit you, then, whenever you want," I said quietly, not wanting to disrupt her.

She sighed in response, still hugging me. I wanted to alleviate her fears of becoming my weakness.

"No one but you will know how much I love you," I continued, "And when I can be free of it all, then we can be together, if that's what you want."

Her body shuddered and I realized she was crying silently.

"Tifa, what's wrong? Are you alright?" I whispered, still holding her.

Abruptly she pushed me away, her head down, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand, and walked towards the door. I moved to stop her, but she pulled her arm from me and opened the door without looking back. Then she was gone. Standing alone in the attic, stunned for a few seconds, I thought carefully of my last few words to her, hoping I hadn't said the wrong thing. Then I realized she wasn't coming back and bolted after her. Quickly walking back downstairs, I saw her in the living room talking to Cid with Denzel standing next to her.

"Tifa!" I called out, and once more all turned to stare at me.

"Let's go," Tifa was saying to Cid and Yuffie, then she turned to me. "Goodbye, Cloud," she said briskly without eye contact.

Pulling Denzel along, she vanished out the front door. Cid chuckled a little and gazed at me reproachfully before following her.

"Good job, Cloud. You made Tifa cry," Yuffie moaned and rolled her eyes, "What did you do _this_ time?"

I stared stunned at her, unable to form a coherent reply, so she sighed and followed them out, slamming the door shut. Immediately, I reached for the doorknob.

"Leave her," Elmyra's voice was low behind me. "Let her go make her own decisions."

Facing her, I was about to argue how important Tifa was to me, then I remembered this was Aerith's surrogate mother, someone who knew the feeling of loss only too well. Marlene stood quietly behind her, watching me with sad eyes.

"You're never as alone as you think," Elmyra went on sagely, "When I lost my husband, and then when I lost Aerith, I was sure it was the end for me. Even though Tifa isn't really gone, I understand a spiritual loss can be just as heavy as an actual one. But you can't force it."

Her comments frustrated me because nobody understood what had happened in Junon, why I left Edge in the first place, or why I had returned. But I said nothing, suppressing the sudden anger threatening to overcome me.

"What will you do now, Cloud?" Marlene's tiny voice asked timidly.

Nothing. I could say nothing. Because I was still trapped in that moment, holding onto it even as it dissipated into nothingness. Nothing.

"Do you love her?" Marlene asked in genuine curiosity.

Her words brought me back into reality, yet still I said nothing. Merely staring into her dark brown eyes, I regained my composure, feeling the anger settle in my stomach. The sound of the airship ascending punctured the silence and my pulse quickened.

"No," I finally said to Marlene. A damn lie, but one I had to eventually convince myself of, if anything was going to work.

"Oh... Was that why she was so upset?"

"...Maybe," I replied succinctly.

I didn't want to spend anymore time with them. Ignoring Elmyra's gentle protesting, I opened the door and walked out, seeing the sky above empty. Cid was gone, as was Tifa. In my head I went over our conversation, analyzing every fragment of words. It was clear she thought she was protecting me by staying away. Blamed herself for it all, I was sure. Or maybe she thought Jude would use her against me if he knew we were together. Of course, I had previously had no intention of staying in Junon forever. I was going to figure a way out of Jude's organization at some point without having to kill anyone and then go back to Edge with her.

But she had simply walked away. That was the real bottom line. Beneath everything, it all boiled down to me standing alone in a damn attic after she simply walked out. The multitude of implications swam around in my mind like a string of heavy weights.

With Edge far in the distance at my back, I got on my bike and left Kalm, heading towards Junon.

I would go to her again. I knew I would see her again. Just not today. Not soon. Things take time. But nothing ever fully heals. Sometimes it doesn't lessen in time, either. But I couldn't be selfish and seek her for my own solace. Knowing she was safe would be enough. Would _have_ to be enough. For now. Perhaps forever. Nothing mattered though. It was done.


	15. Nihilism

_Six months later..._

- Nihilism -

* * *

Pitiful. The man was begging for his life, tears streaming down his cheeks, unaware that empathy was no longer something I felt. Numb beneath layers of induced calmness, I watched him struggle futilely, the dim light from the swinging bulb overhead casting an assortment of shadows on his frightened face. The basement of an abandoned office building in the slums was his unfortunate location, restrained in a metal chair facing the door with the very real knowledge of his death close at hand. The two men to my left stood silently watching him, but I knew they were itching for my word. Sweat dripped from his chin as he cried out to me, as though in agony, but we hadn't even begun yet. I knew what would happen to him. Because the same had nearly happened to me.

He had crossed the wrong man. Whether it was about money or words, I didn't know nor did I care. My job was clear. And I couldn't afford to get distracted by reasons or emotions. Arms across my chest, I tilted my head to the side, studying his frantic struggle.

"Please... please, you can't do this! I told Jude it wouldn't happen again! You've got to believe me!" he sputtered.

I took a deep breath and said nothing.

"C'mon! C'mon, this is sick! I've got a-a- family! This was the only job I could get to support them! I-I'm a decent guy!"

Heart wrenching, to be sure. Also, a lie. Only assassins got this particular type of treatment, so I knew this man had to be one. Even if only for a day or two. But the details did not concern me.

"Surely you have a family. O-or a girl you go home to? A wife maybe? I've got a wife!" He wouldn't stop talking. Apparently fear didn't paralyze him.

Stepping forward, I smacked his mouth with the back of my hand, his head snapping to the side from the force, and he yelped in pain.

"Oh fuck... oh fuck..." he whimpered, blood trailing from his split lip. Hands tied behind his back, he could do nothing in retaliation but sit and contemplate his predicament.

"You do understand why you're here, right?" I finally asked after he got the hint to stop talking.

"I told you... It won't happen again! Tell Jude it was a mistake!" he ordered desperately.

I couldn't help but laugh.

"No, no," I held my hand up to silence him, "It doesn't work like that."

"...Who are you?" The fear in his voice was unmistakable. "You're him, aren't you?"

My reputation obviously preceded me.

"The guy who worked the eastern expanse? Jude's second in command, aren't you? Oh shit... oh shit..." he whispered.

"It doesn't matter," I said dismissively.

"You...you -"

Before he could ramble on, I unsheathed the blade on my back and pressed the cold steel against his throat, glaring down at him. Immediately, he fell silent, eyes wide.

"I said... It doesn't matter who I am," I stated clearly.

The muscles in his jaw tensed and he swallowed hard, terrified.

"The next time you see me, you will be begging me to end your life," I whispered viciously to him, and pulled the sword away, sheathing it again.

He was uncooperative, but he understood why he was in the situation that he was in. That's all I had to do – verify guilt and create fear. Aside from the final cut. But that was much later, after the other two had worked on him. With a short nod at the two assassins that had stood behind me, I departed, leaving the man to the exquisite torture that would surely follow. I wanted to get as far away as quickly as possible to avoid hearing the screams. The basement room was next to a garbage room, complete with an incinerator, and upstairs the empty offices and cubicles of some long forgotten company lay sprawled, still littered with remnants of the past – chairs and desks half-destroyed, file cabinets and old cracked picture frames – hidden under a thick layer of dust.

It was harder to maintain the same level of inner calm when something would trigger a memory of her. This place, for example. I just took another pill and tried to ignore the resurfacing images. Because the truth was I missed her. But there was no room for error or weakness. Nobody could know how deeply I loved her, or anyone could use it against me. That was one valuable lesson I learned from Jude.

Still, it wasn't easy. Six months had passed since I last stood close to her, heard her voice. No, I told myself to forget it.

Outside, it was raining again, the ocean waves hissing as they crashed against the sleek metal of the lower tiers of the city. Only a light drizzle, though. Nothing like the usual storms that plagued the coastline at nearly all hours. I would return to the basement soon enough to finish the job, but until then, I was free to do what I pleased. So I sat indoors at the café on the corner of the upper tier, a favorite spot of mine because of its sober ocean view. And anyone who wanted to reach me for whatever reason would undoubtedly look there, because anyone who knew Jude in the city knew that he used that particular café more often than not. Referrals were usually directed there to us. So it was preferentially that either Jude or myself stopped by frequently. Our presence was far from covert, but not even Rufus Shinra interfered, although his reasons and intentions remained his own agenda and none of my business. So I sat at the table directly behind the window and watched the sun set, the forced tranquility within my veins soothing any unpleasantness into a mild oblivion.

"Excuse me," a woman's hesitant voice cut through my thoughts, "Are you...Jude?"

A potential customer. I turned to face her. An older woman, a sad frightful shadow in her eyes.

"No. But I work for him. So I can help you, depending on what you need," I said automatically.

She smiled nervously and sat down opposite me. Then the usual conversation took place. She asked me if it was true we did contract killings and inquired about various prices before finally confiding that she needed her ex-husband murdered and relinquishing the money I required. From what she told me, he wasn't a skilled fighter, nor trained in combat in any way, so it would be easy. Jude would take care of the technical shit, so I took her information and informed her that Jude would contact her regarding the specifics. I only did the killing.

My phone rang shortly after she left. The guy in the basement didn't last very long apparently, or maybe time just seemed to pass quicker for me. I headed back towards the slums, regardless. A dull ache in my chest accompanied the knot in my stomach because I truly detested seeing the end result of the limitless torture those sick fucks would no doubt have employed. I only delivered the fateful cut because Jude was too busy to do it himself and asked me to stand in his place for a price. Refusal was not an option.

Still, the moment I entered the basement halfway across the city again, I winced inwardly to see the bloodied mess slumped over in the chair, breathing in short gasps, skin torn off in some places, bones broken or cut apart. The metal table behind him which held the assortment of instruments used was now spattered with blood. The figure coughed, spitting up dark red, his chest heaving unsteadily. That would have been me. Should have been me. If it weren't for her.

Pity may not be what I felt, but a sort of detached sympathy still broke through the haze of drugs in my brain. Not that I could help him at this point anyways. Death would be a blessing.

Somehow, he noticed my presence and lifted his head, the muscles in his torn neck twisting outward as he painstakingly gazed up at me.

"...You..." he muttered though the liquid caught in his throat, and something of a laugh escaped his lips.

Sword in hand, I approached him slowly.

"...This...is hell." His voice was nothing short of a strained whisper.

"I know..." I responded quietly, "Only too well."

Not wishing to prolong the torment, I slit his throat in one quick movement of my wrist, the sudden rush of blood down his chest nearly elating to witness. His body went limp and he was gone within a moment. I looked over at the two assassins who had done this to him and sighed.

"Burn it," I instructed them, wiping the edge of my sword clean on the dead man's shoulder.

"Yes, sir," they replied in unison, smiling.

Disgusted, I left their company, once more returning to the world beyond the horrors of the basement, outside into the twilight air. Routine. It was all so fucking routine. I swallowed another pill, eager to lose the clarity returning to my mind, and decided to head home early, thoughts of her still swimming in my skull.

The humidity in the air was suffocating, and a thin layer of sweat coated my skin. Once inside my apartment building, I took the stairs up towards my room, but stopped short halfway because there was a distinct shadow behind me that had suddenly emerged from beneath the stairwell.

Someone had followed me. This often occurred when someone didn't agree with my way of doing things, and even rarer, when someone misplaced their revenge, attempting to punish me for the death of their friend or loved one, unable to realize it was nothing personal and that I was just the instrument, not the cause. Nevertheless, I paused, hearing the footsteps behind me halt as well.

Focusing my breathing and steadying my footing, I moved my fingertips to rest on the hilt at the base of my back. Before the other could react, I swiveled around quickly, pulling the blade between us, and shoved the figure back against the wall with my forearm pressed against its chest, the sword's edge at its throat. But the person was much smaller and lighter than I expected. And a light perfume suddenly filled my head, sweet like the scent of tangerines, like a fleeting dream laced within a nightmare.

Her arms went up defensively and despite the darkness of the stairway, I recognized her smell and touch immediately, relaxing the weapon in my hands, moving it from her throat. My chest tightened as though my breath was being squeezed out and I sighed deeply to combat the feeling, ineffectively. I was more than shocked to see her, and it took several seconds to reorient myself.

"You...you shouldn't be here," I whispered and released my grip on her, still in a daze, "And you shouldn't ever sneak up behind me. I could have killed you..."

"I didn't mean to startle you," Tifa replied breathlessly.

"Did anyone see you come here?" I asked tensely, exhaling and trying to control the choking sensation creeping along my throat and neck.

"No, no I don't think so."

Climbing the remaining stairs to the next floor, I turned to face her in the dim light of the hallway. Deep garnet eyes met mine, swept with a strange desperation that I could only mirror.

"You should never have come here to me," I said gravely, "If anyone were to see you with me, it could be dangerous."

"I know, but..." Her voice softened and trailed off.

"This place, this whole city, is not safe," I went on, walking down the hall towards my room. The corridor remained quiet, much to my relief.

"I'm sorry..." She lowered her eyes to the floor.

I opened the door to my apartment and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her inside, then shut the door immediately. I didn't want her to know just how important I had become, how high on the social food-chain I was now. Nor did I want to risk anyone discovering my connection to her and using that against me. It had happened before, so I was wary of it ever happening again. After flipping on the kitchen light, I discarded my sword on the table and faced her, resisting the urge to wrap her in my arms. The calamity in my head settled down, the fog dissipating into a thin clarity.

"I saw you in Edge last week," she said almost at once.

"I know," I replied with a slight nod.

"Why didn't you say anything to me?" she spoke as though she already knew the answer.

"I was...uncertain of what to say," I said hesitantly.

"You had been watching me."

"I had not," I insisted.

Truthfully, I had been in Edge solely to track a specific target who happened to live near her bar and I had no intention of seeing her. It was purely an accident, but as I passed by her street shortly after midnight, I couldn't help but stop for only a moment and gaze up at the darkened windows, thinking of her asleep within. I remained on the far side of the street from the bar, feeling my heartbeat quicken. Hardly fifteen seconds had passed before I stubbornly refused myself any further thoughts of her and continued on my way. Then I caught sight of movement at the end of the block. She hadn't even been in the bar at that time, as I became aware, because she was turning the corner at that moment on her way home from somewhere. Immediately, I had shrunk back at the sight of her, not anticipating such a meeting, and disappeared into the darkness of an alcove. She was carrying some bags in her arms and struggled to pull her keys out as she neared the bar entrance. It was late and dark. The streets were mostly empty and I remained absolutely still. Honestly, I don't know why I was so worried that she would see me because she was no threat, but my stomach had twisted into a dead knot and my blood felt hot and slow, like a dim paralysis.

She then unlocked the door and stepped inside the bar, but just as I was about to brush the entire incident off and walk away, she turned and looked straight at me. Her entire body froze, eyes locked on mine, though I was certain she couldn't see me. I didn't move and neither did she for a few moments. Then, slowly, she entered the bar and shut the door. The light inside was turned on and the warm glow from the window felt inviting for just a moment. Then I remembered my place and my task and left without a second thought. Until now.

"I was not watching you and I hadn't seen you at any time before then," I assured her, "I've been leaving you alone."

"What made you think you need to avoid me?"

The words startled me and I struggled to remain stoic. "Because...last time we spoke, you..." I changed the subject quickly, "You still shouldn't have come here. I really could have hurt you back there in the stairwell. It wasn't a good idea to follow me."

She broke eye contact and lightly rubbed her neck, then her face broke into a soft smile. "Oh, I would have fought back if I thought you were really going to hurt me," she said playfully though her friendly tone was strained.

I couldn't return her smile as easily though. It was tough to think of anything to say to her at that moment because I was caught between my desire for her and my duty to protect her, both of which required opposite reactions. To keep her safe, she had to stay away from me. She had said this herself months ago, that we were one another's weakness, and she was right.

She bit her lip and looked at me, her gaze penetrating. The dim yellowish glow from the hanging lamp above made her complexion look a sickly hue and dark shadows were cast under her eyes from the angle of the light.

"You still shouldn't have come here," I kept repeating, feeling uneasy.

"Is that all you're concerned with? I had to see you! After that night when I saw you in Edge, I thought about what you had told me," she said softly and I knew that the conversation was taking a turn towards what I had wanted to avoid.

"I told you lots of things," I commented, acting oblivious.

"You said that when you could be free of all this, you would come back to me."

"I recall you walking away from me seconds after I said that," I countered.

"Well, I've changed my mind," she said fiercely, "I thought maybe you had too. I thought maybe that's why you were outside my building that night. Maybe you had something to say to me."

"You know exactly how I feel already," I said clearly, "But it's too late for this. I was outside your building by coincidence and nothing more."

Half a year had gone by and it seemed impossible to throw away everything simply to appease her. The truth was that losing her did not calculate into any of my plans, and getting involved with her again would no doubt jeopardize my position. I had run-ins with people eager for my death every day and if she were with me, it wouldn't be very long until someone found out that she was important to me. And then anyone could exploit that. I wouldn't allow it.

"Too late?" she replied in disbelief and shook her head, "I'm worried about you. You've changed so much."

It seemed ironic that she had refused me twice before, yet now...

It was a struggle to find my next sentence. "I thought you wanted nothing more to do with me after you walked out in Kalm. Even though I had no intention of staying here for this long, it just ended up that way and everything became more complicated. I have certain...obligations here now," I stopped myself and took a breath before continuing, my voice low, "I didn't want to upset you if you knew I had to kill him. I wanted to get out without having to cut anyone up. But when I came back to living my life here -"

"But this isn't you! This life isn't you!" she argued back, her voice frantic.

"This _is_ me, Tifa," I replied solemnly, "And maybe whatever version of me you still have in your head is the false one."

"I don't believe that..."

"Look," I said, "You know I will do anything to keep you safe. But since we last spoke in Kalm, a lot has changed."

She didn't say anything.

"I think I know why you walked away from me," I continued, "You know that our lives can't be fulfilled by one another so simply. You know that your life in Edge consists of other priorities aside from whatever happiness I may have brought you. That's why you asked me to leave...because we were too caught up with each other that everything else in our lives was suffering. You said so yourself that you felt as if you were becoming a different person when we were together."

"I know," she said suddenly, cutting me off, "I know what I said, and you're right. There are more important things in life aside from changing our priorities to be with one another. And I'll admit I was angry with you and with myself for feeling so...so attached to you. And when I walked away...I just wanted to be apart from you to clear my head and think about what I really wanted."

I remained motionless, watching her. "...And what did you think about?"

"You," she said bluntly, then took a moment in contemplation before going on, "Well, at first I thought about never seeing you again and simply continuing on with our separate lives, and I was content to do just that. But when I saw you in Edge that night, everything changed. I thought you were just some junkie at first glance. You scared the hell out of me; you looked so different. Then I realized how much you had to give up for me. I thought about how close to death you had come just as punishment for saving my life. And it frightened me that I couldn't even recognize my best friend anymore."

She hadn't used the words 'best friend' to describe me in a very long time, so it sounded peculiar and awfully melancholic. But in the short pause she allowed, I said nothing.

She huffed, as if equally aggravated and distressed, and continued, "For whatever reason, I can't rest without knowing you're safe."

I suddenly realized what she was asking, and truthfully, giving up my work and heading back to live with her felt ideal, but only for a moment. I had too much at stake in Junon now. Even if Jude were dead, there was a lot of work that defaulted to me. And it was work that I enjoyed. It wasn't just contract killings anymore – I let subordinates handle those with a few exceptions, and the big money came from the mako Jude brought into the city.

But there was more to it. Power. Control.

The biggest obstacle in my mind was integrating her and my job so I didn't have to choose. Keeping her safe was the highest priority, but she would never be safe with me if I remained in Junon. However, if I dropped everything and went back with her, then I would just be restless all the time without any decent work to do, and then there was a possibility that she would change her mind or end up feeling like she did when we were together before... It hadn't worked previously, and if anything, I had only gotten worse.

"You shouldn't worry about me," I told her, though half of me was screaming in protest.

"So for all I know you could get killed over here and I would just never see you again, and you're fine with that?"

I sighed and looked away, my eyes falling on the katana resting atop the kitchen table. A change of subject seemed appropriate, but I couldn't find any words.

She spoke again, harsher. "Haven't you looked at what you've become? Haven't you seen that it's the antithesis of what you used to be? Does killing people for a living truly mean nothing to you?"

"Everything means something," I responded in defense, then added, "Apparently it means more to you than me, though."

She stared, speechless, at me for several long cold seconds. Her mouth hung open in strangled disbelief, then her entire expression softened to a look of muted sadness, as if witnessing the helpless mutilation of a butterfly.

"You're trapped here, aren't you?" Her voice was oddly sympathetic. A batch of lonely words that would have normally elicited a stronger reaction from me, one of denial.

But I did not respond because there was nothing left to counter with. There was no applicable response. Her own silence was attempting to prompt an answer from me, yet I remained quiet, holding her stare and feeling a sudden detachment.

"So that's it?" she went on, her tone abrasive again, "You have nothing else to say to me?"

I looked the other way to escape her gaze. "I'm...sorry."

She sighed, throwing her hands over her head as if to rid herself of the entire situation before turning towards the door.

"Then I suppose I have nothing more to say either," she said indifferently, placing her hand on the doorknob.

"Wait," I blurted out before she could open the door.

She paused and glanced over at me in irritation.

"You shouldn't leave now," I stated, "It's dangerous, I mean, for you to leave at this time of the evening. You should stay here until dawn. Just to be on the safe side." Of course that wasn't the only reason I asked her to wait.

"You want me to stay here with you for that long?" she asked with skepticism.

"It's just not smart for you to go out now," I reasoned, "If anyone were watching me or watching this place..."

"I can take care of myself," she responded sharply and opened the door.

Without thinking, my hand darted out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back. I slammed the door shut with my other hand and moved her behind me instinctively.

"No. Stay here for now," I said calmly, blocking the door, my arm still around hers.

"Let go of me," she spat.

"Please," I tried to mask my desperation, "I insist."

"I said let go..." she repeated louder, "You're hurting me."

Obediently, I released her arm, and intimate tension heightened between us. I wanted to kiss her suddenly, hold her against the wall or throw her down on my bed. I wanted to hear my name fall from her lips in heated gasps of breath. But instead I did nothing because I knew that if she wanted to go, then it was only right that I let her go. Crossing my arms over my chest, I stepped to the side, allowing her unobstructed access to the door.

"I'm sorry..." I muttered.

She placed one hand on the doorknob then paused and looked right at me.

"I know you're still in there," she said quietly, "You may act differently and look differently, but it's still you and that's what scares me about everything."

Before I could reply, she swung open the door and left. I contemplated going after her and forcing her to stay with me for her own safety until dawn, but I was paralyzed. The light sound of her footsteps vanished down the staircase and I closed the door, cursing silently.

Everything felt slow and heavy. Physical exhaustion was not my problem, yet all I wanted to do was sleep. In a sluggish pace, I retreated into my bedroom and collapsed on the bed.

The scar on the side of my face had begun hurting again. Despite being long healed, the skin that had previously been torn and cut apart would suddenly sting ever so often, as though the wound were still fresh. It ranged from a dull discomfort to excruciating. On more than one occasion, I had winced from it in the presence of subordinates, which was dangerous because showing any sort of weakness on my part could mean a dozen things in the eyes of those looking to advance in power.

While lying on the bed, the pain only grew worse, arcing upwards into my skull. A hot violent pain. Curling on my side, I clenched my teeth and my eyes fell on the nightstand where her picture still stood propped against the lamp. The black and white photo of her that Jude had given me. The one that had gotten me involved with her again. The one which ended up saving her life.

Not wanting to think of her anymore, I rolled over and shut my eyes. The scar continued throbbing, but I just accepted it, safe and alone in my room with no other associates nearby and nothing to worry about. It was okay because I knew it would stop eventually. Beneath my eyelids, a comforting void appeared and I drifted forward into a painful sleep.

The next thing I was aware of was my phone ringing. Lazily, I checked the clock on the nightstand. 3 am. The phone stopped ringing for a few seconds, then started right back up again. Annoyed at being woken up, I wrenched the phone from my pocket and examined the caller ID. It was Jude, so there was no way I could afford not to answer.

"...What?" I answered groggily, my eyes closed once more.

"What the hell is she doing in my city?" Jude snarled at once.

"What? Who?" I responded, still partially in the confines of sleep.

"What the fuck do you think you're playing at!" he went on angrily.

"Jude... Calm down. Tell me what happened. Who is in the city?" I asked evenly, rubbing my eyes and sitting up.

Slowly and evenly as though speaking to a child, he said, "Your girl from Edge."

My chest froze and constriction twisted through my throat and lungs. "Wh-what?"

"She tried...to kill me," he was noticeably restraining his voice to an even tone.

"Tifa? Wait, where is she?" I was already standing by the door, sheathed katana in one hand.

"Are you trying to tell me you had nothing to do with her little scheme?" he asked seriously.

"Jude, wait a second. Don't hurt her. I'll handle it. Where is she?" My mind was racing to match my heartbeat.

"I just got back from Wutai three hours ago to find your bitch attempting to pull some assassination stunt on me, and if you're involved in any way..."

"Three hours? Okay, listen to me," I spoke rapidly as I slammed the door and ran down the stairs, "Listen, I wasn't aware of this in the slightest. Just don't hurt her. Where is she?"

"Meet me in the slums. Top floor of the office building where we hold executions." A slight pause, an annoyed sigh, then, "My tolerance for this sort of shit has already worn thin," he growled and hung up immediately.


	16. A Thousand Parts

- A Thousand Parts of Glass -

* * *

Everything was a blur as I left my apartment building, entering once more into the rain of Junon. A thousand questions tore through my brain and I couldn't believe she would try to attack Jude without mentioning anything to me or asking for my help. It was unreal, and for several long seconds I wondered if I were dreaming.

Since I was already in the slums, the trip to the usual execution spot was practically nonexistent. Rainclouds above obscured whatever moonlight could be offered, and the only break in the darkness was sparse streetlamps, fuzzy and dim through the haze. The abandoned office building loomed desolate and unforgiving between two other derelict buildings, its dark broken windows like deep punctures in its brick façade. Immediately, I shoved open the door and took the staircase up to the top floor without delay.

It was clear something was wrong at once. Jude stood with two other associates at the end of the hallway down my left, outside of a closed door. Only a few naked bulbs hanging overhead shed light on their solemn faces. All turned to gaze at me as I walked up to meet them, and I noticed Jude had a swollen black eye and bruised lip. There were a few dark spots of blood on the edge of his cuffs and across his shirt. He slowly took a drag of his cigarette, the soft orange tip illuminating his fingertips and the scowl on his face.

"Where is she? Is she hurt?" I asked the moment I was close.

The two other guys merely stared and Jude glared at me suspiciously, exhaling a stream of smoke in my direction. He looked at me a long time, one hand subconsciously touching the scar at his neck as he often did whenever he was considering something important. I didn't care to wait for his response and pushed past him quickly. Seeing her and knowing she was alright became my absolute priority.

Opening the door, I saw nothing out of place at first. It was a plain office with no windows, a large dilapidated wooden desk slightly a skewed, an overturned desk chair on its side with wheels motionless, coated in dust, and assorted papers scattered, yellowing with age. A single strip of fluorescent light blinked in the ceiling, casting faint streaks of periodic shadows across the entire room. Two associates stood to one side, looking down at a slumped figure lying curled in the farthest corner away from the harsh light.

"Get out," I immediately instructed them.

The associates shrugged at one another then nodded briefly at me before departing. Once the door closed behind them, I moved forward towards the edge of the light, feeling my heart plummet.

She lay on her side, propped in the corner with her legs bound together tightly and her arms linked at the wrists in front of her, fallen lifelessly over her stomach. Blood covered her abdomen and throat, and her shirt was torn apart at the shoulders. Intense anger paralyzed me and I felt my fists tighten involuntarily. Her eyes were closed, her head drooped forward, dark hair hanging in knotted clumps, and a faint painful breath escaped her lips.

I knelt down next to her slowly, and seeing the extent of the damage they had done stabbed through me like a knife. A series of long deep gashes arced along her ribcage and upwards around her breast and neck, wet with thick blood. Sheer white bone was visible beneath the torn muscle in some spots along her side, and long streaks of tears trailed through the grime on her cheeks. Her mouth trembled faintly, red dribbling from the corner of her split lower lip, and my chest tightened into a knot. Carefully, I leaned over her. She did not move in the slightest.

"Tifa..." I whispered the single word tenderly, yet she still did not move and her breath was nothing but shallow gasps.

A weightless sensation lifted through me. Slowly, I reached over and touched her wrists gently, making sure I could safely untie the knots without damaging her skin.

The moment my hands grazed her skin, however, she sprang to life and her bound fists flashed forward, hitting me square in the jaw. She let out a scream, eyes frantic, and her body twisted away from me as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. I recoiled, steadying myself with one hand pressed against the floor, tasting blood in my mouth.

"Tifa! It's me!" I whispered, but her gaze went past mine and she screamed once more, terrified, trying to push herself further into the corner, away from me.

Her fists swung out at me again, weakly, and I caught her hands in mine, immediately leaning forward and hugging myself against her so she couldn't further aggravate the wounds across her abdomen.

"Tifa!" I said louder, yet she struggled fiercely so I placed my arms over hers entirely, literally holding her down because every time she tensed the muscles in her stomach more blood gushed outward.

Still she fought vehemently, and I tightened my grip on her wrists, clutching her steadily to me. Our faces were close but her eyes were still set somewhere distant. I had to break her panic. She had to recognize me.

"It's me! It's Cloud!"

She heard my name and stopped screaming. Tears were still running from her eyes in fast precession, her chin angled away from mine, and she blinked rapidly.

"It's Cloud," I said quickly, as soothing as I could, "Everyone else is gone. They're all gone. It's just us now. You and me."

It was clear that she had been simply acting on instinct the moment she sensed someone near her and hadn't even known it was me. They had hurt her badly. A deep rage burrowed through the center of my chest and hardened into the strong desire to kill whoever did this to her. And I had a very good idea of who that someone was.

Slowly, the muscles in her arms relaxed and she rolled her head towards me. The wet bloodshot eyes finally focused on mine.

"...Cloud?" Her voice was small and vulnerable.

I had never seen her physically hurt to this extent ever before. Looking at her torn apart like just another fucking job did something to me.

"Yeah," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady and low to match hers, "Yeah, it's me."

She seemed hesitant. "You look so different." As she spoke, the shiny coat of blood around her neck surged slightly.

After unraveling the thick woven mythril rope from her wrists, I held her freezing hands in mine and sat on the floor with her, holding her. Her eyes kept darting around, her breathing ragged and strained. Sweat covered her forehead and her hair hung in drab disarray, but her lips broke into a smile, chapped and cracking. The most severe pain shown in her eyes and something within me fell apart.

"I must be dreaming..." she said, smiling at me.

"Why did you do this?" The question was more a plea than a demand. It broke me in two to see her like this. "Why didn't you tell me what you were planning or that you were even going to stay in the city?"

"You would have tried to stop me. But I...didn't want you to know. Now he can't hold you...responsible." Her eyelids kept flickering as she tried maintaining eye contact and her voice fluctuated with every gasp. "This was my fault... My fault," she continued, "because I attacked him. I waited for him in his apartment building, in the hall near his room. ...I waited and I just wanted to get rid of him so you would be able to come back to Edge. But... You've fallen so far... I wasn't sure I could help you...anymore." Her words no longer made sense. I hadn't fallen anywhere and I certainly didn't need her help.

"I-I thought you wanted nothing to do with me after you left," I said gently, "I thought you were angry with me for everything. I just didn't want you to get hurt..." I should have stopped her from leaving my apartment.

"I never meant for it to be like this," she said faintly, "I was angry with you...but...I guess I never understood why you would choose...to stay in Junon. But..." she trailed off and swallowed hard, in obvious pain. A thin sheen of sweat had begun accumulating across her face, which had succumbed to a sickly yellow complexion.

"Tif..." I called lightly, and her eyes refocused on mine once more.

"I thought I could kill him," she went on faintly, and I knew she was talking about Jude, "Just one more death... And that would save you. I wanted to help..." Her words were disoriented and strung apart. "I wanted to see you again. Really see you."

I rested my cheek on the top of her head and breathed out, her hands still in mine over her chest. "I should have made you stay with me," I said quietly and closed my eyes for a moment, the pain in my chest crumbling into anger.

"Cloud?"

I looked down at her once more. "Yes?"

She started smiling again, though struggling to speak. "It's that promise on that well, isn't it? That damn promise. We just can't seem to...escape that. Maybe we are...always linked. You came to save my...life again. ...I should have made you promise...other things. Like promise not to...work for sadistic maniacs."

I squeezed her hands in mine and held one to my lips, kissing her soft skin. It was slow and surreal.

"Will I be okay...? I feel numb and cold..." she whispered.

Taking one slight gaze down at the mutilated portion of her torso, I grimaced but managed to smile back at her. "I won't let you die, if that's what you're wondering."

"I don't...think I can move," she confessed, clenching her teeth for a moment.

I shifted her weight slightly onto the wall and stood. Unsheathing the katana quickly, I cut the rope that was twisting around her legs and feet. "Don't try to talk anymore," I told her, "I'm going to pick you up and it's going to hurt a lot. But I need to get you out of here." I knelt next to her once more and she slid back into my arms.

"But I'm so tired... I don't think I can go anywhere. Let me have this moment," she said, closing her eyes again, "Let me just stay like this for a little bit with you."

"No, I need to get you out of here. I _will_ get you out of here," I said and reached one arm under her shoulders and the other behind her thighs. "Just don't worry."

The door behind me sprang open just as I was about to pick her up, and I stood at once, spinning around to greet whoever it was with a blade.

Jude's voice immediately spoke, "I don't even want to know the pathetic reasons she's probably giving you right now for getting herself in this situation." Intense fire burned through my muscles and it took all my energy to remain calm. I couldn't get distracted by him. I had to get her out.

"I asked you not to hurt her," I iterated each syllable carefully, "I asked you to let me handle her."

"And right now I'm asking you to handle her the way we handle anyone who attacks any of us, Cloud," Jude stated, stepping forward. Behind him I could see the other four associates in the hall, looking in. "She shouldn't be spared."

"You told me," I began, anger still coursing through me, "that if I worked for you she would not be harmed."

"She destroyed her immunity by trying to kill me!" he shouted, "And that makes her exempt from our deal!"

"Get me a curing materia for her," I forced the words out through clenched teeth, "Now."

Jude simple stared at me.

"Get me a curing materia!" I repeated, "Get me a damn Restore!"

After a few seconds of silence, Jude turned and nodded at one of the men standing behind him, who apprehensively retreated down the hallway. Then he looked back at me and let out a chuckle, which only enraged me further.

I spoke with venom, "You think this is funny? You think she is just another form of entertainment for you?"

"I was just having a bit of fun. Don't tell me you never played with a victim just a little," he let out another small laugh, "I've seen the look in your eyes when you kill someone. I see that same bloodlust that I have to contend with myself, the way you smirk when you cut someone apart. Why do you think you were first attracted to this job when you initially came to Junon a year and a half ago? You love it as much as I do. You love taking someone's life."

"That doesn't matter. None of that matters." My head was starting to hurt, and it was difficult to focus because I just wanted to get her out of there. "She isn't some numbered job anymore. She is different!"

"Is she?" he snapped at me, "Is she different? Only to you, perhaps. But she is just another person in a crowd of millions, and she made a wrong choice by coming to Junon tonight. She is no different than those junkies on the street who would stab you in the back for another pill or the vengeful widows of dead numbers seeking to cut your throat just for doing your job. She is just another person, Cloud. She cannot be given special treatment. Nobody who tries to hurt any one of us is ever allowed to live. It is this way for a reason. We take care of our own, don't we?"

My mind flashed to the corpse in the basement, the man I had executed earlier that day. That's how we took care of each other – by deterring those stupid enough to consider making an attempt on any of our lives, by making an example of those that did. Betrayal, lies, foolish ambitions. They were not tolerated, and she fit into the latter category. In the cycle of our work, and in the mind of the man who orchestrated it all, she had to be killed. She should have already been executed, but he decided to play with her first, knowing it would affect me. He wanted to see my reactions. It was just another part of his scheme for control and obsession with loyalty.

"I don't care what you think. She is different to me," I said once more, still watching him carefully.

"So she is important to you. But do you think that those other people you've killed before were not important to anyone? Did you think none of those targets had some loved one mourning their death the day after? Did you think you were unique in loving someone?" he shouted loudly, eyes suddenly fiery, "No! No, there is nothing in this world that is unique!"

"Those people were part of my work..." I argued weakly.

"But they are no different from her! She is another part of your work! And I'm asking you to complete that job..."

I suddenly understood what he wanted me to do. He expected me to kill her, but the absurdity of it almost made me laugh. "Do you honestly believe I wouldn't do everything I can to save her?" I spoke low and biting, "She may have made a mistake by coming to the city and attacking you, but I won't let her die for it!"

"You disappoint me," he said harshly, "You cannot save her. Even as we speak she is dying. So why do this? She's lost too much blood, Cloud. She's in a lot of pain already. She can't move. She can hardly talk. I doubt she even knows what's going on, or even realizes you're really standing over her. She won't be alive for much longer anyways, but my admiration and respect for you is expiring shortly. So just end her suffering. End it."

"She will be fine once I get that materia." Though even I doubted if that were true. "And you better hope she'll be okay." I lowered my voice, adding, "She is the only reason I ever agreed to work for you."

He let out a sigh and shook his head.

"You really believe that? Let me tell you a little something." He casually put his hands in his pockets and walked to the side a few steps, head tilted to watch me. "I killed my first person at the age of ten. I think I knew then that it would become my life. As I watched the blood soak into the carpeting that day, I really think I knew that I wouldn't be able to stop. And here I am, seventeen years later, looking at someone whose eyes flash with the same satisfaction when blood is spilled."

"I don't give a damn what you say -"

"I never had a choice, Cloud," he said loudly, as if making a final point, "It was set for me the moment I cut that first one open. And it continued throughout my life. It was never a choice to become what I am."

"This isn't important!" I yelled over him, glancing back at Tifa. Her breathing had become shallower and her eyes were once more unfocused and distant.

"You never had a choice either," Jude continued, ignoring me completely, "I know you didn't have a choice. Someone created this within you and I don't know who, but you're stuck with your monster, as I am stuck with mine."

His words struck me hard, infuriated me. My mind raced to deny it, but I couldn't conjure a response. His eyes watched mine, unblinking and unperturbed.

"But," he went on with a sigh, "If I can't make you see that..." He cleared his throat and gazed back at the men standing behind him before stepping closer. As he walked forward, the three associates in the doorway moved in and I protectively moved backwards, closer to Tifa.

"Leave!" I shouted at the other assassins, "Don't come any closer!"

They paused and looked over at Jude.

"Where does their loyalty lie, I wonder," Jude mused with a smirk, "Or are you unaccustomed to having your power stripped away from you?"

The other three shifted their gaze back on me, and two of them were smiling, the third already with a short sword in hand.

"What the hell is this?" I demanded from them. "I said get out! All of you! Leave this between Jude and me!"

"I don't think she's going to last much longer," Jude commented, walking slowly to my side while the other three assassins remained in front of me. "And I'm giving you a way out, yet again. Would you rather her die in your arms on the stairs as you try to save her life by forfeiting your own? Or would you rather end her suffering now and stay in my good graces doing the job you love, the job you were meant to do?"

I glanced down at her over my shoulder, keeping Jude and the others within my peripheral vision. Her eyes were shut and her pallid complexion contrasted sharply with the red still covering her neck and stomach and chest. Her lips were still moving, however, in brief tight gasps. It pained me to watch her struggle, and the scar along my face started to sting without warning, like a dozen needle points.

Paralysis gripped my muscles and an overwhelming sensation of confinement fell over me. I was trapped. My brain couldn't reason a logical way out.

"You are still going to try and save her?" Jude asked incredulously. "Your dedication is misplaced."

None of them moved and Jude continued looking at me curiously, like a child seeing something for the first time. Again my chest felt suffocated. There was no more time. I had to get her out, and if that meant killing everyone in the room, then so be it.

"You destroyed any reason for me to listen to you the moment you cut her open," I said finally.

At once, I unsheathed the katana and held it angled towards the three associates still standing by the door. Jude began laughing again, apparently enjoying the whole matter immensely, but I was through wasting time.

The katana was a blur of reflective steel and red mist as I tore forward, slicing through the assassin closest to me. His arm fell to the floor along with a rush of blood and a scream. In another flash his stomach was split open and he struggled to grasp at the pile of intestines threatening to spill outward as he fell, blood everywhere. The second guy holding the short sword was next. He dodged the first slash and crouched low to the ground, attempting to kick my legs out. A simple movement of my stance and a delicate twist of my wrists brought the blade through his shoulder, downward at a precise diagonal through his heart and lungs. Instant, unavoidable. These guys were nothing.

The third associate had watched me slaughter his companions and stood in the doorway, eyes wide, staring at the wreckage laying dismembered at my feet. The second my eyes set on his, he backed up a few steps into the hallway, his jaw hanging, and then he turned and bolted away. His footsteps pounded in the silence of the abandoned building and disappeared down the staircase. Smart move.

Jude had moved behind me to where Tifa lay and was leaning over her, as if inspecting the damage he had done. He seemed to not be paying any attention to me.

"Get away from her," I demanded immediately.

"I'm curious if she's worth all this trouble. Those two lives you just ended... Are they worth less than hers?" he asked darkly, eyes lowered.

Not in the mood to prolong our talk at the expense of Tifa's health, I moved quickly to one side so I could get a clean cut at Jude. He finally looked up at me and at the weapon between us.

"Killing me won't stop it. Killing me won't do anything except destroy what I've built here in Junon," he said plainly, no sign of fright in his face or voice, "You'll still have to deal with that demon on your shoulder."

It was either Tifa or him, I reasoned. That's what it came down to. Kill him and get out with Tifa and possibly save her life, or let her die and leave Jude to continue torturing people and ruining lives.

"I'm not certain why exactly you're so angry now. It's not like I haven't had my fun with her in the past," he said expressionlessly.

"W-what did you say?" I didn't think I heard him properly.

"I said she was a lot of fun, entertained me with a vivid shade of red. The only entertainment worth anything to me," he grinned wistfully, as though remembering something pleasant and added, "Thought for sure you were going to hear her from the basement that day." I froze, unable to comprehend what I was hearing and my stomach twisted. His eyes refocused on me and narrowed slightly before continuing, "I'm still surprised you didn't. She was screaming your name."

Anger leapt through me, but I was paralyzed. "What the hell are you talking about?!"

His calm expression didn't falter. "Back a few months ago, I recall you were in a basement awaiting your execution, and we had a nice chat. I thought for sure that was the last time I'd see you alive." He continued smiling and his eyes widened slightly as though just realizing something. "Did you think I never paid your dear Tifa a visit?"

In a flash of clarity, I remembered seeing Jude before the two assassins had cut my face in the basement over six months ago. There had already been blood on his suit, and I did not want to believe it had been hers.

"I'll always remember her vividly. Feisty at first, but only at first," he lowered his voice, eyes once more elsewhere, reliving something, "I just loved watching the blood flow as she was helplessly restrained by two associates – the same two you later killed, actually. When we started, she just squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip. But she couldn't take very much until she broke." He started laughing as his eyes darted back to mine. "Did Tifa never tell you what I did to her?"

"You're lying," I said flatly, ignoring the intense rage clawing inside me, "I saw the stitches on her shoulder. There was nothing else. I would have noticed cuts along her side. I would have noticed blood or..." I trailed off suddenly. A daze of realization hit as I remembered her appearance when she had rescued me from the basement. Jude did not move nor did he stop smiling.

She had been cradling her arm along her side and blood had drenched half of her shirt. I had thought she wasn't moving her arm because her shoulder alone had hurt so badly. But it was possible she never let me see the real reason. She never really acknowledged anything that day, and the extent of the damage he had done to her was truly unknown to me.

"She must've been stronger than I thought, hiding it from you. Or maybe she never wanted you to know how frightened I made her feel," Jude continued, watching me through an odd gaze like an astronomer observing two distant comets colliding, "She never wanted you to know how eager she was to cry for help. Maybe she never wanted you to realize that when she was reduced to being weak and helpless, all she was doing was calling for you."

Something in my chest was aching horribly, a sudden exhilarating spike. I wanted him dead.

The second my muscles tensed to bring the katana down in a beautiful swing, Jude moved forward in my direction. The blade curved towards him at a delicious angle that I thought was impossible to dodge, yet he put his left arm up fast, blocking the path of the sword from completing its full swing and thus stunting its momentum greatly. Nobody had ever rushed forward into such a swing before, so the shock took a few seconds to register in my head. Slender steel cut through cloth then muscle in his left arm, splicing open flesh, but did not have the strength to cut clean through the bone. He pushed upwards so the angle was against me, and I felt the metal stop dead, lodged in his arm. Warm blood poured downwards towards his shoulder, dripping down the blade and hilt, over my hands.

His right arm moved in the single second while I was still partially paralyzed with surprise, grabbed my left wrist, fingers digging in, and twisted it inward then snapped upwards in the same motion. Pain tore through my arm and I released the hilt reflexively, cradling my damaged wrist against my stomach. It was a mistake, costing me another very valuable second of time as he took advantage of my slight recoil and grasped the hilt with his own hand, then kicked me hard in the chest. Still, I did not let go because I knew if he got the katana, I was dead. As we struggled over control of the weapon, he suddenly reached up with his other hand and closed his fist around the blade, cutting into his palm as he wrenched the whole thing from me with both arms. With my other hand useless, I panicked. Blood streamed from his fist and he smiled at me, kicking my stomach. In a flash, the blade was out of my hands and I fell back, wincing.

Immediately, I charged at him, but he already had the katana pointed down at me and slashed quickly. A long slice tore through my shoulder and then another through my abdomen along my ribs, cutting deep, and pain ripped up my spine. Everything fell around me and my hands hit concrete. Jude did not hesitate and pulled the sword straight to my throat, holding it taut against my skin, staring down at me along the straight edge. Red soaked through my shirt at an alarming rate, the split along my ribcage sending jagged signals of intense pain. The blood from his hand and sliced arm dripped down his sleeves, staining the dark striped suit, and his smile broke into sudden laughter.

His wrist twisted and the sharp edge tilted up into my chin, cutting below my jaw. I clenched my teeth and inhaled. He made no indication of the pain he was no doubt enduring as he clutched the hilt tighter, more dark blood pouring from the torn skin and muscle in his palm.

"It's a shame you could never overcome your weakness for this girl!" he shouted at me and I noticed the sheen of sweat accumulating on his face.

I said nothing in return because the blade was still at my throat.

He suddenly lifted the sword above his head at an angle perfectly acclimated to my position and I knew it was going to slice through my neck if I didn't move. The blood from Jude's hands dripped down into his hair and the second the weapon reached the highest point, I bolted off the floor, ignoring every rising sting and ache in my body. Tackling him with as much force as I could, I literally threw him backwards and he stumbled, hitting the wall behind him. The katana was still in his hands, though now tilted to one side.

Tifa caught my eye as I moved and the absolute stillness of her body sent a surge of overwhelming adrenaline through my veins. My fight with Jude had to end so I could help her. There was a rabid desperation in my muscles and my hands closed into fists as I attacked him in a reckless fit. The katana angled quick between us, but I was faster and dodged to one side, then grabbed the hilt with one hand and punched him hard in the face with the other. Blood gushed from his nose and I punched him again, unable to control myself, over his black eye, his jaw, again and again. His teeth were covered in red when he grinned back at me, and my other arm held the sword away, locked with surprising strength, though he was struggling hard to twist the edge between us.

The silver shine of metal crested into my vision, the sword inching closer to my face as he fought me. My hand went to his neck and I squeezed, watching blood pour from his cracked brow, his broken lip, and his eyes were nothing but slits, but that damn smile remained. The katana grazed against my face, shaking from the opposing forces of our hands around its hilt, yet still I held his throat tight, crushing inward until the complexion of his face began transforming into a dull reddish purple. Finally, the muscles in his arm grew fainter just slightly, and I wrenched the katana back from him.

Moving my hand from his throat, I pulled the katana across in one fluid motion, feeling it sever the muscles and arteries with no resistance. His expression immediately changed to one of mild surprise wrecked with intense pain. His eyes left mine and he tried to cough, sputtering, liquid rising in this throat, dripping from the corner of his mouth. A strangled breath escaped him, and the open slice in his neck spewed blood down his chest in a torrent.

I stepped back and he slid to the floor, still against the wall. His hands went up to his neck, grasping feverishly and I remained motionless, holding my stomach, catching my breath, and watching him for several more seconds. Blood coated his hands and surged from his throat, unstoppable. It didn't take much longer until his body collapsed entirely.

All at once, his movement halted and his body slumped. Then there was nothing more. Jude was dead.

Immediately, I threw down the katana and rushed to Tifa's side. She was still curled in the corner motionless, eyes closed, her abdomen shiny with blood and raw flesh. Her skin was so cold it sent chills like electricity through me.

"Tifa!" I shouted, shaking her slightly.

Her eyes opened, thin and glassy, but she didn't look up at me. Her mouth was moving faintly, her lips and tongue trying to say something, but there was no breath for her to speak with. I tried to make out what she was saying, and though she resembled a fish gulping for air, I swore she was trying to say my name.

"Stay with me," I demanded, holding her in my arms, "Stay here with me!"

But her mouth stopped gasping and her body went entirely limp. She was gone. In a heartbeat, I had lost her. Blood was pooling around us, sliding outward from her, covering my arms and shirt. I sat in complete silence, holding her corpse, the product of my own work. I was too late. Everything became dizzyingly surreal, and I simply stared down at her, my eyes wide and unblinking, her pale skin becoming a sickly inanimate shade of white.

Amidst the burning sensation tightening my lungs, I felt hot anger writhe through me. I exhaled heavily, not realizing that I had been holding my breath, and blinked. Her head hung backwards lifelessly, red muscle and torn arteries visible through the gashes in her throat and abdomen. Suddenly, it didn't look like Tifa anymore. It was just another corpse. Just another number. I didn't want to touch her anymore and I immediately stood in horror, looking down at my arms and clothes covered in blood.

I couldn't escape the red everywhere. It was coated so thick on my hands and chest from hugging her close, so thick that I couldn't wipe it off because there was blood all over the floor and walls, too. There was nothing but corpses surrounding me. The two assassins lay in pieces; Jude was a crumpled empty husk. And when I looked back down at her, it truly wasn't her anymore, but Zack.

"N-no..." I felt weak and nauseous.

He lay motionless, red soaking through the bullet wounds in his chest, mixing with the muddy grass beneath him. The world began spinning around me and a sudden violent pain tore across my face, along my scar. A loud ringing filled my ears, a cacophony of screams and the sound of gunshots and the slice of metal through bone. The katana was still on the floor where it had fallen, its edge dark and shiny. I was scared, a lucid fright that I had never felt before. I tried to combat it with anger, but my thoughts felt lost and unnatural. I couldn't speak or breathe.

And I knew it was impossible for him to be lying there. I knew it was all in my head. It was Tifa. I had killed Tifa. I stepped backward until I felt a wall, my eyes never leaving her and eventually the gunshots faded into faint echoes.

But I could do nothing. I was frozen, trapped.

My muscles were tense as though trying to change the moment in time, trying to remove myself from reality, because it was such a simple error in judgment that had brought this death to her, something so very avoidable. Less than four hours prior, she had been alive. She had been breathing and thinking. I didn't want to believe it was real. If only I could have undone that single second where I acted on logic instead of instinct and had just kept her with me. There was so much I wanted to say to her, so much I wanted to know from her. There was an entire lifetime that I would have spent with her, gone. There was a childhood I had with her, meaningless. It was all so fucking meaningless now.

I couldn't remember what I had last said to her, and that felt suddenly more important than anything. My last words, a final impression of me in her head, and I just couldn't remember. And what had been her last words to me?

No, I told myself, do not crash now. I had to deal with the consequences right away before I lost control.

The cold from the wall was creeping through my back and down my arms, and I realized I had been shivering. There were slow footsteps approaching from the hallway, so I turned and looked over in a daze. The fourth associate who had been sent to get the materia had returned and stood in the doorway, motionless, his eyes fixed on Jude's corpse for several long seconds. Then he spotted me with a jump of fright, the small green sphere rolling freely in his open palm.

"Y-y-you...!" he sputtered, suddenly noticing the other corpses in the room, "Don't kill me, sir! Jude made me do it!"

I didn't know or care what he was babbling about. I had no intention of killing him.

He thrust his hand outward at me. "Here! Here it is, sir! The materia you asked for!"

The green marble fell to the floor and rolled slowly over the concrete, tracing a line through the blood before resting at my boots. It was a mockery of everything that had transpired, and it gleamed faintly in the dim buzz of the overhead light, twinkling, laughing. I picked it up and wiped it clean on my sleeve.

"It's...useless now," I told him softly.

The assassin stepped forward slowly into the room, gazing at his fallen companions and Jude.

"Jude...You..." he seemed lost and I looked carefully at him. He was a few years younger than me, a new guy probably. His eyes fell on Tifa and he moved towards her. "W-what do we do now, with Jude gone? You're going to handle everything, right?"

I said nothing. He stood next to me, looking down at her.

Somehow my mind pieced itself back together and I forcibly tried to relax. The fact was that a dead body lay at my feet, and I had to deal with it because it was my problem. I couldn't run away or collapse. It was real and it was in front of me. With several deep breaths, I edged towards her. The world was once again concrete, and the pains in my face subsided gradually.

The associate was now looking at me. "Sir, are you alright?"

Everything was still spinning as I frantically thought of what to do next. I had to take her outside, that much was absolutely certain in my head. She wasn't just some junkie or a target whom I could leave dead in their home, rotting. I didn't want that same fate for her that I left to others.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I demanded of her in a whisper, sadly, "Why didn't you just let me know what you were planning?"

"Sir?" His voice edged upwards with the question and he leaned towards me. "You say something?" His hand touched my shoulder slightly.

I reacted instantly and grabbed his throat in a blur, shoving him backwards. He fell back and sprang to his feet at once, horrified.

"I-I didn't mean anything by that!" he shouted immediately, one hand at his neck protectively.

"Get out of here," I said calmly, "I'm leaving Junon and if you bother me again, I'll make sure you join Jude and your other dead friends in pieces on the floor. Understand?"

He nodded several times.

I added, "Make sure you tell everyone. Tell them I slit his throat and I'll do the same to anyone else who gets in my way."

The associate nodded again and ran out of the room, footsteps pounding down the corridor towards the stairs.

The katana stayed on the floor, coated in blood at Jude's feet. I did not want to touch it ever again. I knelt beside her body slowly, as if I would awaken abruptly at any moment to find the last two years a dream. She would be lying next to me, in a cozy bed back in Edge, and maybe she would wake up and smile at me, eyes sparkling. And everything would be fine.

Her body fell close against mine as I picked up the corpse, warm blood trailing from her neck when I shifted her weight. Don't think about it, I ordered myself. But already she was colder and the usually soft texture of her skin felt abrasive and unnatural. Her lips were a pallid thin line, her eyes shut. I swallowed hard and let out another deep breath, attempting to steady the shaking of my arms because I did not want to touch her anymore, or hold her, or know that she was real in my arms. Lifeless.

Carefully, I walked back downstairs and outside into the cold night air. A light rain hung like mist around me, veiling anything beyond the slums. The foggy street lamps were dim bulbs of luminance spaced intermittently, leading into the tiered area. I wasn't interested in going towards the city, however. With the lights to my back, and her body still in my arms, I made my way out into the darkness of the surrounding fields that blanketed the area beyond the city limits. My thoughts were empty, forcibly so. I could not allow myself to feel anything because I knew beneath it all there was emptiness.

I walked out through the mist until the lights from the city grew dull and distant, and the clouds above partially cleared away. I walked without direction until my legs hurt and my lungs felt heavy and the dampness of the grass bled through my boots. It was so cold that my skin felt numb and at last I stopped, still clutching her tightly. I had somehow reached the stretching sand of the far beaches out from Junon, the ocean hissing and churning beyond me. Her body was cool to the touch and the blood had begun drying. Far behind me to my left, Junon was nothing but a stretch of dotted light.

Only a quarter of the moon shone partly through the break of clouds, and even though the fields behind me had been dark and wet with rain, the white sand reflected the faintest bit of moonlight so the beach seemed to dimly glow in contrast, an almost haunting pallor. My entire body shook and I made it a point to keep her shoulders held up to me because I didn't want to look at the severed throat. The sand was hard and unyielding, but I soon found myself at the water's edge with the absolute endless black ocean filling my sight and a dead girl in my arms.

After numbly removing my boots with my heels, I waded forward into the lapping shoreline. The water was freezing, but still I trudged forward. My own physical discomfort was irrelevant. The waves spattered against me on both sides as I walked deeper, the mild current pulling and pushing in a rhythmic flow. It soaked upward through her clothing, water covering her body and rinsing away the dried clumps and streaks of blood.

Everything happened in bits and pieces as I continued forward until the water reached my shoulders and the sand under my feet dropped off in front of me. The current was stronger and it moved her hair in silky patterns amidst the dark rolls of waves. Suddenly, I did not want to let go of her. I wanted to hold her tighter and stay with her, but the coldness of the ocean buried into me, magnifying the lifeless chill of her body. She was just another object, without the vibrancy that I had always quintessentially associated with her alone. Wherever Tifa was, she was not in my arms anymore.

Relaxing my grip on her slowly, the drifting ocean current seemed to gulp her away immediately, ripping her from me. The body was pulled outward, far to where the current became strongest, then vanished beneath the surface. My eyes strained in the darkness, but the black waves were empty.

I remained there, my arms still holding nothing, for a long time. Time passed, though I'm not certain how much. I was focusing on keeping my breathing steady. Nothing else. Then, I completely broke down.

Reality hit like a train loaded with explosives and I was its smoldering wreckage. It was a strong slap in the face that tore me apart. She was gone, forever. There was nothing left. My lungs and throat felt raw as if scraped with a razor, and the numbness spreading along my skin was distant and unimportant. I made it back to the shore and felt sand at my palms.

I can't recall how long I stayed slumped over on that beach, but at some point I looked upwards at the sky and found that all the clouds had cleared away and I was staring up at an ocean of stars. They were the same stars I had sat under years ago, atop a well, making a promise that I couldn't keep. The despair felt whole, endless, consuming. But I got control of my emotions and forced my mind clear again. It was over and she was gone and there was nothing more I could do.

Almost immediately, my thoughts went to Denzel. He was alone now in Edge, without family, without Tifa. It was my duty to take care of him because it was my fault Tifa couldn't anymore. I stood and trudged away from the spot where she had left me. It was a nameless location identical to any other stretch of beach around Junon, but I knew I would never want to venture near it again. Not anytime soon, at least. The night seemed infinite around me, and even as I walked faster towards Junon, I never felt as though I were getting any closer. The pain from my scar crept along my face, mimicking a fresh wound where I knew there was none. But it kept my mind distracted. At last I reached the outskirts of the city, the slums, though I couldn't recall actively walking that far. I couldn't stop thinking of the soft glow of the moonlight against my skin, making the blood appear dark and permanent on my hands and arms.

For the first time in a long time, I didn't know what to do. My thoughts were conflicted, my mind still in a state of shock. Reality was weaving in and out of time.

I didn't feel like myself at all, as if I were still out in the sand far from Junon with my eyes fixed on the stars, a ghost passing through a memory. I didn't realize until then how deeply I had been affected by my job. But somewhere between the layers of denial and guilt, I knew that she didn't have a chance.

She had been the reason I remained working for Jude. Her safety had always been my priority. And since he had made a deal to keep her safe... I never guessed she would be hurt that way again. I never guessed that it would be...

I stopped myself from following the thoughts any longer and caught my breath. I had to get back to Edge.


	17. Sliding Off the World

- Sliding Off the World -

* * *

It was just after dawn by the time I stood in front of the bar, one hand on the doorframe, the other hesitating to knock. The sky was still a pasty morning white and the streets were filled with early commuters. The ocean in Junon had drenched my clothes and rinsed most of her blood from my skin and shirt, but Edge was colder albeit drier, and my teeth were chattering. Damp clothes clung to my skin like a suffocating layer of guilt. The cuts along my shoulder and side from Jude still bled lightly as I walked, so I had kept my arms around my stomach trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. But I knew I had to get out of public before the morning rush hour or a lot more people would notice me.

With little recourse, I knocked on the front door and waited. No answer. A sudden worry that Denzel wasn't even home crossed my mind, yet I had no where else to go. For only a second, I thought of picking the lock and letting myself in, but that felt wrong somehow, so I knocked again.

Finally, I heard soft footsteps approach the door and the lock clicked. Slowly, the door opened slightly and Denzel peered out, his eyes narrow and suspicious. Then he recognized me and his expression changed.

His shock was unmistakable. "Cloud?"

"Let me in, Denzel. Please," I asked faintly, my side still hurting as I spoke.

"S-sure," he replied and pulled open the door.

I walked in and shut the door behind me. Denzel was holding a steak knife.

"What are you doing with that?" I immediately asked.

He glanced at it, then set it down on the nearest table.

"Oh, well, Tifa told me not to let anyone in while she was gone, so I thought maybe if you were a burglar or a junkie or something..." He rubbed the back of his neck and avoided eye contact, looking instead at the closed door behind me. "Tifa isn't with you?"

"W-what?" I faltered and it suddenly became that much harder to talk to him.

"Tifa left to go see you yesterday. I'm surprised you didn't run into her on your way here," he said with a little laugh, "And what's with your clothes? You look like you went swimming in them and then slept in them."

"Right," I cleared my head with a deep breath, "I got caught in the rain on my way over."

He nodded and stepped back a bit. "Uh, I've been meaning to ask you something..."

"Yeah?" I asked while walking towards the kitchen in the back. The bar was so silent and empty, yet at any moment I expected her to walk down the stairs and scold me for waking her up and I would smile and apologize.

"Did you ever...uh, tell Tifa about... the mako?" he asked hesitantly.

It took me a moment to realize what he was talking about. Then I answered, "No. No I never told her. Did you stop?"

"Yeah," he nodded again, then added in a soft voice, "Thanks, Cloud."

I started washing my hands and forearms in the kitchen sink with a thick layer of soap.

"So..." Denzel went on, "Where is Tifa?"

There was no more avoiding the subject. I had to tell him. I shut the water off and looked over at him, my hands still over the sink.

"There was an accident," I said succinctly.

"What? What do you mean? Is she okay? Is she in the hospital?" he asked rapidly, his voice panicked.

"No, she's not okay," I replied, keeping my tone absolutely even.

His face went a shade whiter and his mouth hung open. Tears instantly welled in his eyes. "Wh-what do you mean? What do you mean she's not okay?" his voice cracked.

"She's dead, Denzel."

It looked like someone slapped him hard across the face because he stepped backwards suddenly and began breathing in short gasps as though being strangled.

"N-no... No, you're lying! What did you do to her?!" A series of tears tumbled down his cheeks and his tone was one of violent denial.

"Denzel..." I tried to think of comforting words, but there were none.

"You had something to do with this! What did you do to her?!" he screamed and ran at me.

I put my hands up just as he started throwing punches.

"Tell me what happened!" he demanded, trying to push me away. I simply stood there, blocking his fists with my arms. "Tell me you know what happened to her! Tell me you did everything you could for her!"

I caught his wrists and held him still.

"Let go of me!" he screamed, "I hate you!"

"Denzel!" I had to talk some sense into him. "Denzel, there was nothing anyone could do!" How could I tell him the truth?

I held him to me, wrapping his arms around his chest so he couldn't hit me and so I couldn't accidently hurt him.

"I know you had something to do with it! There would be no other reason for you to be here, would there?!" he shouted through more tears.

"Why do you think I came here?" I asked, keeping my voice low, "I didn't come back here for her. I came back here for you."

He stopped struggling as though paralyzed and suddenly leaned against me, turning his head in towards my shirt, and said nothing for several long moments with his eyes squeezed shut. I didn't move or speak.

"What did she do wrong?" he choked the words out through a strained voice, "What did she do...? Tell me what happened..."

"She didn't do anything wrong. It was an accident," I said reassuringly.

"But how...?"

"Her throat was cut by someone. By the time I got to her, it was too late. She died quickly. Not a lot of pain." It wasn't exactly a lie.

This did nothing to comfort him, and in fact he began crying more, leaning heavier against me. His anger seemed to dissipate quickly. "It's happening all over again..." he mumbled weakly.

"What...?" I wasn't sure I heard him.

"You're going to die, too, now and I'm going to be alone again..."

Suddenly, I understood. He was talking about the death of his parents. He was only eight at the time though I was sure he remembered it clearly. Perhaps he truly viewed Tifa as a surrogate mother, and his fear led to a natural progression in his mind of me being killed next. Which meant he viewed me as a father.

"I'm not going anywhere," I said, trying to be as reassuring as possible.

I let go of his fists and he turned more towards me, burying himself in a hug. The cuts along my side and shoulder stung, but I ignored it and hugged him back. Part of me wanted to tell him the truth of what happened to Tifa, but I knew he would never forgive me if that were the case. He would never want to see me again. So I kept my mouth shut. He had all the information that was necessary, and nothing more.

"Cloud..." he said faintly and pulled away, "You're bleeding..."

I glanced down at my shirt, fresh blood staining through the torn pieces by my shoulder and heavily by my stomach. Some of it had gotten onto Denzel's shirt when he hugged me.

"Oh, yeah. I..." The image of Jude laughing with blood trailing from his hands suddenly popped into my head.

"Did you kill him...?" Denzel asked, and my mind came back.

"Kill him?" I repeated.

"Yeah. Did you kill whoever hurt Tifa? Isn't that where your cuts are from?"

I let out a sigh, my chest still feeling tight. "Yes," I nodded, "Yes, I killed him."

"Good... And you'll be okay?"

"I'll be just fine."

"I'm...sorry I tried to hit you," he sheepishly said, wiping the tears away with the back of his hand.

"Don't worry about it," I replied.

But I didn't want to look like I had killed anyone. Without a word, I went upstairs into the office, and Denzel shadowed me silently. Everything was still tidy, just as I had last seen it. The door to her room was shut. I had shared that room with her long ago and if there was a chance any of my clothes were still packed away somewhere, then I wanted to find them, though it was unlikely I would. Changing out of the clothes I had murdered both Tifa and Jude in became my sudden priority. That's what I told myself, at least. Maybe I just wanted to be in her room one last time. No, I rationalized it away. I was simply looking for a change of clothes.

Hesitantly, I opened her bedroom door and flipped on the light. Denzel did not follow, but remained in the office behind me. Her entire room was a mess, highly unusual for her. The bed was unmade and clothes littered the floor along with scattered sheets of paper. It was obvious she had been distraught over something for a while. Forcing myself not to think too deeply about it, I began rummaging through the drawers looking for any of my old clothing. Beneath a handful of skirts and shorts in the bottom drawer, I found a picture of myself with her and Denzel lying facedown. I was the only one not smiling in the photo.

"Cloud..." A soft whisper said my name and I instantly thought it was Tifa's voice. I turned and glanced all around, but the room was empty.

After taking the photo from its frame and placing it in my pocket, I walked back into the office. Denzel was lying on his side on the couch, face buried in a pillow.

"Denzel," I said gently, "Did you just call me?"

He lifted his head up, his cheeks still tear-stained, and shook his head.

"Oh, I thought I heard something..." I said absent-mindedly and went back into her room, slightly unsettled, though not especially perturbed. "Must've imagined it." Wouldn't be the first time I'd heard voices.

I looked through her closet next, still hoping she had kept some of my clothes because I did not want to return to my own apartment. Next to a row of hanging pajama pants, near the back of the closet, there were half a dozen of my old shirts. The material was soft and worn, however, and it didn't take long for me to figure out that she had been wearing my shirts to sleep in my absence. I didn't want to dwell on the implication and simply grabbed one, half-hoping she had more of my old clothes stored somewhere. But I found nothing else. Just some old worn shirts. Perhaps a trip to my apartment was unavoidable, I thought miserably.

When I went back into the office, Denzel was asleep, curled facing the couch cushions. I had to shower and heal my cuts with the spare materia that had been meant for her and then get out of Edge. Keeping my mind occupied was essential. I knew I wouldn't be able to stay in her bar without her. Everything was a constant and deliberate reminder. I resolved to take whatever gil I could from the bar and bring Denzel out to Costa del Sol or somewhere and live far away from any piece of her, though that would require a trip through Junon. No, I didn't want to go back there. I needed more time to think, but I couldn't stand to remain in Edge.

After I had showered and cleaned up the gashes near my chest and abdomen, I woke Denzel up.

"We're leaving," I told him.

"I don't want to go anywhere," he responded sleepily, then he sat up straight as if just realizing something, "Marlene! Oh no... We've got to tell Marlene what's happened!"

He was right, though I did not want to face anyone else and have to deliver the bad news. But it was my responsibility, and these things had to be done.

"Alright. Let's go," I said at last. The longer I waited, the worse it would feel, I reasoned.

Traveling to Kalm didn't take as long as I would have liked, and Denzel sat in absolute silence the entire way. Everything within me was adamantly opposed to talking any more. I was dead tired, having not slept at all the previous night, and wanted nothing more than to vanish. But the problem of confronting all of her friends about the situation loomed like an ominous shadow over me. It was a necessity to move forward.

Elmyra answered the door and gazed at me suspiciously when I told her I needed to speak with Marlene. Nevertheless, Denzel pushed his way past her and ran in looking for Marlene before I could stop him.

I sat in the little living room and a wave of insensitivity once more settled over my body. I spoke evenly to them both and watched Elmyra's expression change as the news crushed her. I saw Marlene hug Denzel, crying hard against his shoulder, and heard him tell them that I had gotten revenge and killed the one who hurt Tifa, as if it were something to make them feel better. I felt the world move around me, continuing in a circle as I remained stranded, unable to move anymore, unable to think or speak. Trapped. I told Elmyra that I couldn't stand to inform anyone else and if she could call Barret and Yuffie and Vincent and Cid and Red and tell them for me, I would be in her debt.

I told her I needed to sleep and if she let me rest for only a little bit, then I would be on my way and bother her no further. Denzel had made it his duty to comfort Marlene, who couldn't even glance at me without bursting into tears. And I collapsed upstairs in a bedroom, on a soft pink blanket that I didn't know or care who it belonged to. I had once more fallen below the threshold of maintaining my composure, and everything became a blur.

Almost immediately, I fell asleep, and I dreamt of her through shades of green fog. Her voice was saying my name, sometimes slow and seductive, sometimes quick and frightened. Then I saw Jude grinning at me and heard her screaming. He cut her apart with my sword and by the time I could reach her, she was lying bruised and bloody, still saying my name weakly. I held her close and begged her not to leave me.

I awoke with a start and jolted upright in bed, catching my breath. The window in the bedroom was dark, only a low light coming through the open doorway from the hall, and I couldn't believe I had been asleep for that long. I began coughing, feeling nauseous and cold, then realized I hadn't eaten anything in a long time and furthermore that I need mako and took a pill from my pocket, one of the last few I had, swallowing it quickly before any further withdrawal symptoms could surface.

"What the hell am I going to do?" I sighed softly to myself, holding my head in my hands. I was sick of trying to figure it all out. So very sick.

More time passed and I just sat there unable to fall back asleep. Elmyra eventually informed me that she had cooked dinner and brought me a plate of something I couldn't taste though I ate anyways because it was the logical thing to do. I didn't hear from Denzel or Marlene again and the night went on relentlessly. Every time I fell back asleep I dreamt of her.

Morning arrived, and I left with Denzel, much to the protests of Elmyra who wanted Denzel to stay with her and Marlene. But Denzel had refused and insisted on going with me, to my surprise. Though I didn't want to go to Junon, it was the only path across the ocean to Costa del Sol without an airship. It was the first day in months that there was no storm in the city as I brought us through the slums, back to my apartment so I could get some things. I didn't speak as we walked past the decrepit building where Tifa had been murdered, and I didn't blink when I grabbed her photo from my nightstand and shoved it into a bag along with some clothes and cash. Denzel asked questions that I didn't answer, and I think he eventually understood how upset I was coming back to my place, though he had no idea the real reason why.

Then we left Junon via the ferry and headed to Costa del Sol. I recognized a few people on the boat as ex-associates of Jude and they recognized me, but neither of us said anything. They stared at Denzel and I remained leaning against my bike, slowly piecing together the six parts of the sword that had been stored within it, glaring at them the whole time until they moved on.

Once the ship started moving, Denzel turned to me with a look of sincerity.

"I didn't want to ask you before..." he began, "because I didn't know if I truly wanted to hear the answer."

I finished connecting all the metal sword pieces together, then commenced taking them apart again.

"Were you...with her when she died?" he asked plainly.

I nodded once.

"Did she say anything...?"

"No," I said bluntly, examining the edge of the smallest sword part. A sudden image of her mouth moving faintly, gasping for air, moments before she died flashed through my thoughts. My name was blood on her lips.

"If you hadn't killed the guy that hurt her, I think I would have liked to," Denzel stated conclusively, glaring down at the floor.

I paused slightly, the sensation of guilt moving through me like sludge.

"If only I had stopped her from leaving," he suddenly hissed angrily, "If only I had asked her not to go, then maybe she would..."

"It wasn't your fault she left," I replied evenly. I just wish I had a chance to talk to her, I thought unhappily, just one more chance.

"Why did she have to see you? I don't understand why she insisted on going to see you," he said hopelessly and rested his arms against the metal railing of the ship, lowering his head.

"I never found out her reasons..." How could I explain it to him?

"But she couldn't have been killed for nothing," Denzel went on, his voice edging upwards with frustration as he spoke, "There must be some reason why someone would hurt her just for trying to see you. It doesn't make any sense..."

The conversation was taking a turn towards the realm I did not want to discuss. Her reasons for trying to kill Jude were clear to me, but I was not about to tell Denzel anything. That look of sudden pain and fear in her eyes the first moment I reached out for her as she lay half-dead in the corner would stay with me forever. She hadn't expected it to happen like that. I should have forced her to stay in my apartment, even physically restrained her if necessary. Something as simple as that, and she would've never been hurt.

"Like I said," I reiterated, "It was an accident."

"So she died for nothing?"

I had no answer for him, because part of me wanted to believe that she had died for something. A meaningless death was not fitting for her. She had been in dangerous situations countless times prior, where her death would have been viewed as a statement towards something – she would have been a martyr for a cause. At some times, I had thought she could never be killed. After so many brushes with death, I somehow got it into my head that she would be around forever.

Perhaps I could tell myself that she died for everything for me. Her death punctured a hole through all the drugs and deceit and obedient killings that had become my life, and exposed the ugliness of it all which I had always rationalized away before. She had been the only thing capable of jolting me free of the lust for control and power that had crept across me like rust consuming metal.

It was a cold harsh dose of reality, reminding me how deeply I had fallen over the edge into the world of blood that teemed beneath the surface of society. And that's what made me stop. It was the only thing that made me stop.

Denzel stopped asking questions and merely gazed out across the gray sea while I shifted my eyes back to Junon. Only the wealthy tiers were visible, as if the hidden branches of the slums had been nothing but fictional tales in my head. Sunlight shone bright off the sleek metal façade, and the city gleamed like a drop of silver amidst the yellow beaches. Almost casually, my eyes panned to that strip of shoreline far outside the city's edge, the place where she had left my arms. But only for a second. I cleared my throat and immediately looked away.

It was as though that part of my life had ceased existing, perhaps had never existed. A different Cloud had died with her on the floor of that dilapidated office building. Someone I didn't care to know anymore. The city disappeared behind us into the line of the ocean's horizon, and I never looked back.


	18. Epilogue

_Three months later_

- Epilogue -

* * *

It had begun a week after her death.

Between images of metal shards and sprays of red, she would appear in slivers, like a sun peeking through a brief lapse in the clouds. Her eyes would flash, still frozen in that fear, meeting mine without recognition. The scent of the ocean, the chill of that night, would overtake me and, for only a moment, my arms would fill with the dead weight of someone dear, someone gone.

The unnerving realism, however, steadily became more vivid until I was convinced they were no longer just elusive daydreams. I was reliving that moment. Over and over. The way her soft dark hair curled in the water like snakes, the supreme chill that froze over my skin like a hard shell, the burning piece of my chest that wanted to hold onto her forever, that wanted to deny everything.

She died every night in my dreams, apart from me, screaming for me. The deep horror in my chest was always the same. The frantic panic to reach her, the inability to accept that she is perpetually out of reach, the awful despair grinding into my stomach and lungs once I realize she is dying. And the hopeless frustration of restraint. The physical pain of a loved one leaving. The residual sentiments dominated me, and I was her captive each time, spellbound by my mission to reach her. An impossibility. A cruel grasp at the unattainable. A drifting scent in the wind. The images would bore into my waking mind, submerging me into the false urgency of saving her. The adrenaline. The fear. It was artificial and I knew it, and yet…

It was always like that.

A voice would sometimes accompany the visions - the same voice I had heard in Edge that night. She would speak my name and nothing more. Uncertain as a promise, intangible as a memory. And sometimes I felt the presence of another person standing directly behind me, but I could never turn fast enough to see her. She was always gone.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I forced the scene to melt away, leaving me with a soft chill like cold fingers curling into my palms. The blurry fragments faded into a haze and the static in my ears silenced. Just before the world came back into focus, a final fleeting vision of her pulsed like a heartbeat through scattered memories of ocean sunsets and faceless victims. Then she was gone, lost to a fog, before I could hold onto her. With a tight sigh, I shook my head a little and came back to reality. The dismal nighttime ocean dissipated rapidly, and the low murmur of tourists in the street eclipsed the surreal lapping of an imagined shoreline. Blinking, I looked around quickly and remembered where I was – waiting on a check-out line inside a local store to buy some groceries.

Too often I lapsed out of reality, returning to _that_ scene. The middle-aged cashier behind the counter stared dully at me. I paid and left as soon as I could.

Outside, the afternoon sun burned bright and clear. It was the first annoyingly hot day in Icicle Town, which had become the newest tourist spot after the ice near the northern cave had melted away. Another odd weather effect from Meteor. The monsters within had all died out and daily tours were being given, along with a detailed skewered history of Jenova spewed from some ShinRa guide's mouth. The town had grown into a city, and more transients from Edge and Junon came through weekly. It was an ideal place to blend away since the general populace was temporary vacationers whom I would most likely never see again and whom assumed I was a vacationer as well.

Avoiding the crowds, I took the side-streets and back-roads towards the city limits. The light scent of _her_ hair periodically tangled my thoughts. The sidewalk under me and the rows of short residential buildings on either side seemed to fade into false painted images without depth, like cardboard props set on a stage.

Nothing in the world felt..._real_. Not anymore. My waking self was the dream and these tiny fragments of her were the only true reality. I fought with myself, tried to convince myself that it was all part of the grief, or the guilt. Easier said than done.

My apartment building near the edge of town was small and unassuming, and once inside the top floor room, I left the groceries on the kitchen table and went into the office. Trying desperately to distract my mind, I stood at my desk near the window overlooking the street and began perusing through a series of bills that had been stacked there since the prior day. After ShinRa had bought the local businesses, it seemed like costs of everything had increased, and I listlessly checked the dates of payments due for the third then fourth times.

Sudden movement in the corner of my eye grabbed my attention. I swiveled quickly, tensed for the worst, with one arm involuntarily hovering near the empty space on my back. A shadow flickered in the dark space behind the open door and the wall. A glint of a knife. A malicious intent. The dull wallpaper became splattered with vibrant red lines from blood droplets thrown off a blade. My vision blackened, and I knew my mind was playing tricks on me. It happened more frequently than not, nearly three or four times daily, and I always reacted on impulse. Constantly things moved where there was nothing. A person would stand in shadows, in corners of the room or in doorways. Sudden flashes of movement would momentarily plague my vision. Bits and pieces of the scenery would come to life then instantly resettle. It wasn't real and in seconds it was all gone. I never could get a second glance. The room was silent and empty with only the hum of general chatter from the street below.

I remained completely still and watched the room carefully, my eyes moving to each corner, to the doorway, to the window. Nothing but a chill across my skin. Looking slowly back onto the stack of papers on the desk, I forcibly tried to ignore the idea that always popped into my head when these things happened. Ghosts.

A series of light footsteps behind me disrupted my thoughts and I had to restrain my muscles from tensing again.

"Cloud...?" It was Denzel.

"Aren't you supposed to be at school?" I asked, immediately relaxing.

"The school's having a guest speaker from ShinRa talk about something. The teacher gave us the time off to attend it, but I didn't want to. So I left."

"Oh." I wasn't sure whether to reprimand or applaud him for ditching school to evade a ShinRa speaker. Instead of saying anything further, I nodded and turned my attention back to the stack of bills, arbitrarily leafing through them once more.

"…I want to ask you a question," Denzel asked precariously after several moments of silence.

I faced him. "Unless it's about calculating these new taxes," or dismembering people, I bleakly thought, "then I can't help you."

"I need your help on an essay for school. I'm supposed to write about ShinRa's achievements in recent years, and I was thinking about writing something about Jenova."

I froze. "What...?"

"Didn't you used to work for ShinRa?"

"Yeah..."

"But you got fired or something, right?"

"Or something..." I trailed off inconspicuously.

"So you know something about Jenova, right?"

Denzel didn't know exactly how intimate my knowledge of Jenova was, but I resolved to entertain his questions as best I could. "Yeah, I've heard of it," I replied, "So what do you want to know?"

"I don't know. Anything that I can write about. Like, is it true that Soldiers injected with Jenova were forty times stronger than normal Soldiers?"

"Who told you that?" I couldn't mask the disgust in my tone.

"It's in our textbook," Denzel said candidly, "And the teacher said Soldiers with both Mako and Jenova were undefeatable by normal means."

I didn't say anything, partially wondering if he was making it up or just reciting what he had heard.

He went on, "The teacher also said there aren't any more Soldiers with Jenova after the remaining cells were returned to the Lifestream. Apparently, one side effect of Jenova was that the Soldiers had shorter life spans."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, though it was plain to me at once that ShinRa was running the school and had filled it with their own version of history.

"What else should I say to fill up five pages?" he asked after a short silence.

"Do you want the truth?"

He nodded.

"Jenova didn't make anyone have shorter life spans. It made them go insane. And it didn't all return to the Lifestream. Jenova is still around," I stated clearly.

"It's still here?" He gazed at me suspiciously. "How do you know?"

"Because..." I paused for a second, hesitant to divulge the truth, "..._I'm_ still here, aren't I?"

It took him a few seconds to realize what I had told him. His eyes narrowed for a second, then widened. "You...?" He tilted his head to one side, adding, "You're serious?"

I didn't say anything more because the look of shock on his face meant he understood. He was looking at me strangely. "What else have you never told me?" he suddenly asked with a hint of mistrust in his voice.

My eyes rapidly averted towards the window where a lone figure stood below in the street, suspiciously still amidst the usual flow of crowds. It was an older man that I recognized at once as Lars. He stood glancing all around, as if looking for someone.

Denzel followed my gaze. "Who is that?"

"Someone I used to know..." I replied, wondering if Lars was looking for me or if his appearance in town was just a coincidence.

Lars was reading something off a scrap of paper, then turned and disappeared from sight.

"Old friend?" Denzel asked.

"Not exactly."

"Is he looking for you?"

"I don't know. I hope not." The only reason, I figured, Lars would come looking for me was because I never paid back his generous loan from so long ago. Back when I still needed mako. 8k gil worth.

I stood by the window, motionless, for a while longer. Denzel watched me, as if trying to decipher if he too should be vigilant as I was.

Without warning, there was a brief knock on the apartment door. I leaned slightly to one side and gazed down through the hallway at the door, unsure if I had really heard anything or merely imagined it.

"You don't think...that's him, do you?" Denzel said, immediately heading towards the door, reassuring me that someone had indeed knocked if Denzel had heard it too. "You think he came up here? How did he know where you live?"

I stood and grabbed my sword from the corner, unhinging the lightest piece and making my way towards the door.

"Let me handle it," I instructed him, "Go into your room and close the door."

He opened his mouth to protest, but another knock sounded, louder and more impatient, and I just stared angrily at Denzel until he complied and begrudgingly retreated down the side hall towards his room.

Propping the sword against the wall adjacent to the entrance, completely out of sight to whoever was on the other side, I slowly opened the door a sliver. Lars was standing directly in front of me, his eyes darting all around before settling on mine with a huge grin.

"Cloud! Ah, you have no idea how much trouble it was to track you down! Listen, I need your help..." Lars spoke quickly, glancing down the hall left and right, "Let me in."

"No," I stated simply, "How did you find me?"

He smiled at me, exacerbating the wrinkles around his eyes, making him appear even older. "I'll admit I did not expect this lead to be a good one. Last I heard you were over in Costa del Sol."

"I was," I replied flatly, "I sold my beachfront property and made enough money to disappear, or so I thought. Now would you please leave? I don't want to be bothered. Or did I not make that message clear enough in Junon?"

"Ah," his expression changed, "We all know about what you did to Jude... Come on, let me in. I just wanna talk." He was close to begging. "I don't think you'd want anyone seeing us chatting like this in the hall."

I sighed and opened the door wider. "Fine..."

He eagerly pushed his way through with a mumble of thanks, and then his eyes set on the sword resting in the corner as my hand nonchalantly reached over to its hilt. Once the door shut behind him, he suddenly appeared much more frightened.

"H-hey now," he stammered, watching me closely, his arms raised defensively, "You aren't planning on cutting me up, are you?"

"Denzel, I said stay in your room," I called across the room at Denzel who had been standing in the side hall within convenient listening distance.

Lars turned around and glanced toward Denzel, but said nothing.

Denzel disappeared once more and I turned my attention back to Lars, ignoring his comment. "So what do you want?" I asked, carefully swaying the weight of the sword back and forth between my thumb and index finger, the tip of the blade resting on the floor.

"Listen, Cloud," his eyes stayed on the sword, "After you...got rid of Jude three months ago, the mako supply stagnated in Junon."

"It's already been three months?" I responded quietly.

Time had ceased its importance. As if yesterday, as if years ago, her death was a singularity that my thoughts constantly revolved around. It was a lifetime away and yet had only happened last week. The details of that night replayed involuntarily in my head, and the months that had elapsed since then did not matter. I was living between the two instances of time, both equally serving as my reality.

"Yeah, well," Lars continued, unaffected by my mild surprise, "Jude left a huge hole in the supply chain and now all sorts of people are rushing to fill in the demand, cutting mako with any shit they can to boost profits. All mako on the streets is laced with something. There isn't a pure bit anywhere. Nobody knows who Jude's contact was in Wutai and the people over in Wutai won't say a damn thing since their shit is premium now," Lars told me sadly.

"I don't see how this is my problem..."

"I've got junkies crawling all over my bar, begging for some pure mako and I can't get them any. I'm an old man, just a poor business owner trying to make a living! I don't know the first thing about obtaining mako at its source. Help out an old friend. Just tell me where you're getting your personal supply from nowadays. I swear I won't tell anyone how I found you, but I just need to know a good supplier with pure unlaced mako," Lars pleaded.

"I...quit. I don't use the stuff anymore," I informed him.

Lars let out a little laugh, as if he'd heard a bad joke, "I don't believe that. I don't know any junkie who can get clean in only three months. Plus, your eyes tell me otherwise. Can't fool me with that glow!"

"Alright, get out," I said, my patience wearing thin, not caring to explain a damn thing about my eyes.

"Wait, wait!" He once more raised his arms. "Please, hear me out! You don't know what it's like. Junon has fallen apart! I've got junkies threatening to kill me practically every day! I've already gotten jumped twice, all my money stolen and my bar wrecked once, and it's all of Jude's ex-associates! Those sick fucks are trying to destroy me and my business! I don't know what else to do! I can't trust any of the small time dealers near Junon. Cloud, please, help an old friend out!"

"I can't give you the name of any supplier because I've been clean for a while," I told him sternly, "Why don't you just move out of the city?"

"I've lived there all my life and I don't have any money to move my business anyway. Look, if you can't give me any names, could you at least help me find Jude's supplier from Wutai. You were his closest associate, so you must know who his contact was."

Truthfully, I knew exactly who the Wutain supplier was because I had been the one that initially worked that region and gave Jude a way in, so to speak.

"No. I'm done with that business," I replied.

"Then please, just come to Junon and let some of Jude's old crew see your face in town. That would scare the shit out of them, I assure you, and maybe they will stop acting like they own the place."

"You really think that would make them stop?" I asked skeptically.

"Everyone knows you were Jude's favorite and everyone knows you killed him. You don't think that's enough to scare a few junkies?" he scoffed.

"I don't want to go back."

He went on, "Without Jude, they are just jobless killers with no purpose, no ambitions."

Silently, I mulled the situation over in my head. If what Lars told me was true, then Junon was no doubt tearing itself apart and that was explicitly my fault. A strange sense of obligation rose within me. I broke it so I should be the one to fix it. And if all I had to do was show up in Junon and rough up a few junkies....

"People think you're dead, Cloud," Lars said frankly, "One of Jude's old associates told everyone he found you in a room with four corpses all hacked up and that you almost made him the fifth. Says you flipped out after Jude cut up some girl. Everyone thought you had killed him in order to take control of the mako supply, so when you disappeared, most presumed you were dead."

I tried hard not to look affected.

He went on, "So it's true, then, about the girl? That's why you did him in? Was she the same chick you knew from Edge?"

A slow painful sting marched upwards along the line of my scar, and my fist closed around the hilt of my sword involuntarily. I watched him for several seconds, debating exactly what to say, then, "The reason I killed him is none of your business."

"Ah, yeah, I'm sorry," Lars apologized with a slight shake of his head, "It's just strange not to give a specific reason, but I guess the whole situation is kinda shaky. So that rumor about the girl is just a rumor, huh?"

I sighed. "Get out..."

"Please," Lars spouted at once, "Don't just leave Junon to these fucking junkies, these killers. Please, just come back – even for a few days – and just get rid of some of 'em to give the others a message. Secure the supplier in Wutai for one of the local guys and end this nonsense with all the impure shit going around..." He was literally begging. "Please!"

"I can't bring Denzel into this sort of life by going back there..."

"Denzel? Who's that?"

"The answer is no, Lars."

"Fine," he threw his hands over his head, "Fine, but you're making a mistake. You're condemning Junon! It's in your power to stop everything that's falling apart over there, but you won't! Guess I wasted my time tracking you down the last two and a half months..."

"Guess so..." I replied, "Now leave."

He slowly edged around me, heading towards the door, his eyes still on the sword. Just as his hand touched the doorknob, he glanced over his shoulder at me again.

"I suppose the _other _rumor about you is true," he started with a sly tone of contempt, "That you're nothing but a cold-hearted psychopath. One of Jude's old associates is even telling everyone that _you_ had actually turned on your girl from Edge and cut her to bits, not Jude."

My jaw tensed. A deafening silence. I knew he said it because he wanted to incite me, to tempt me to return to Junon to set the record straight, to end any rumors containing such an absurd fabrication. But he realized almost at once that he had said the wrong thing.

My brain clicked in a series of automated motions, responding to the immediate anger in my chest, and the sword moved swiftly, my arms and wrists curving on their own. Within seconds, the blade had severed his throat, stopping just at the spine. All that I heard was the quick slash of metal through air then flesh. Blood gushed downward and he fell, his eyes still open in shock.

The body slumped to the floor, red pooling outward in a mess. He hadn't even had the time to scream. I stumbled backwards, watching the blood edge its way across the floor towards me, in a daze. It didn't seem real or even possible that I had killed him without a second thought. It had been completely involuntary.

Yet seeing that shade of liquid, that dark color gleaming on the edge of the sword... My mind tripped around itself, and the horrible elation of watching someone's last moments spread across my face in a smile.

The blood was everywhere and it was fantastic.

"Cloud..."

A voice. Her voice? I couldn't tell, but it seemed so distant.

For the first time in a long time, I felt happy.

"Cloud!" The voice echoed in my head, its origin indiscernible.

A strange lightness spread through my body like ice water under the skin. My vision shook and blurred. The happiness began to break away from me, a warm embrace departing.

Something was wrong. A sickness crept into my stomach, sudden and unwelcome, demolishing the hazy bliss. All around me, the room seemed to melt away. The air became difficult to breathe, and my heart raced in panic. I couldn't comprehend what was happening – the sudden leap from elation to despair in a second's notice. It was close to suffocation.

I turned away from the body, specifically averting my eyes from the mess, trying to catch my breath.

The fuzziness around me snapped clear suddenly. The intense hissing static in my head screeched to a halt. The world came back, sharp and fast. Clear and quiet.

I paused, unsure of reality. But nothing else moved, and the asphyxiation was gone.

There wasn't a single sound in the room. Lars' body lay motionless, the blood still oozing over the ceramic tiles and branching off through the cracks in the floor, extending from him in long lines of red.

The voice was gone.

"…Denzel?" I called carefully, forcing my voice to steady.

It had to have been his voice calling me. There was no other explanation.

A slow sensation like hot pinpoints crept down my spine. Bits of the room kept blurring in and out of focus. The sunlight pouring in through the kitchen window seemed too bright; it hurt my eyes to glance outside.

"Denzel?!" I called louder, panicking that he had run off. Had he seen me kill Lars?

Still, the room felt odd. Too quiet. I stood near Lars' corpse, tearing one hand through my hair. It was surreal. I had to be dreaming again.

Something brushed against my arm lightly, a trail of cold fingers. Yet I had not sensed anyone else near me. A strange wave of confusion pummeled my brain, and my instincts took over.

Adrenaline grabbed my muscles in a flash, and I turned quickly, cutting a defensive angle between me and the other. I couldn't control the reaction.

A yelp of pain ripped through the silence. I recognized the voice this time, and my heart caught in my chest. Reality converged with the haze surrounding me. The bright light, the soundless room, the sensation of drowning all froze and shattered away.

Denzel jumped back instantaneously. The blade's tip had caught the flesh of his forearm.

"Oh," I shook my head, coming to my senses. "Denzel..." My hyper vigilance disappeared.

"W-What's wrong with you?!" he screamed, backing away, teeth clenched. His hand pressed against the slice in his arm, blood leaking through his fingers. His face was contorted in pain and confusion. "Why did you…?!" He trailed off angrily, squeezing his eyes closed.

But it didn't register properly in my head.

Words were lost to me. I felt no emotional response to his pain. It was like watching a beetle on its back, struggling to turn over, trying to make sense of how it ended up this way, unable to comprehend the larger world above.

"I saw you...!" Denzel suddenly hissed, accusingly, "You killed him for no reason!" He gestured towards Lars' dead body, but his eyes were locked on me, glaring, caught between anger, fear, and pain, and perhaps something of sadness. He went on, his voice shrill, "Then you just stared down at his corpse. You didn't even respond when I called for you! You just kept staring at him!"

Still, I said nothing. It was as though something in my head had broken. My empathy was gone. I was detached.

"And why…? Why the hell did you try to kill me just now!?" he demanded frantically, his eyes now darting between me and Lars.

"I didn't. I would never hurt you. I'm sorry..." I tried to sound sincere, but everything was still blurry. "Let me see your arm..."

"Tifa was right about you..." Denzel said bitingly, edging backwards, "She told me after you left that you were sick! She said that...that you have issues with control because someone messed up your head before!"

"She told you that?" I suddenly recalled that one morning when she asked me to leave so long ago. Had she actually told Denzel the reasons why? Had she told him how I had hurt her? Or had she given him the same reason she later gave me – that being with me had changed her for the worse because she felt dependent on me, and that she felt as though she were becoming someone else?

"You really are sick!" Denzel yelled, his voice strained and cracking, "You killed this guy for no reason, and now you've turned on me!"

"No, I didn't mean to. Denzel, you know I wouldn't hurt you."

"I should have stayed with Elmyra and Marlene," he said suddenly, darkly, "I shouldn't have trusted you. And what was that thing that guy had said about you cutting up a girl from Edge?!"

Everything was falling apart around me.

"He was talking about Tifa, wasn't he!?" Denzel screamed out, his eyes flashing with an anger I had never seen before. "Was that what made you kill him?!"

I stared at him, watching my world disintegrate as he spoke.

And I knew it would never be over.

The need for blood and death ran deeper than just Jude or Junon. It was a piece of me which loved controlling the moment of pain and realization in someone's eyes, which loved hearing the quick sharp slit of a throat being severed, loved seeing the gush of blood in rows synchronized to a dying heartbeat. I shook my head, trying hard to pull myself from the daze and tensed my muscles, the pain in my stomach becoming real. I worried that Jude had been right and that I would never be free of it. This thing inside me.

"So is it true?" Denzel demanded between angry breaths, "Did you kill Tifa?"

The fog in my head was clearing yet the air around me felt like a swarm of bees. Everything that I had tried to shield Denzel from was suddenly spat in my face. With a single mistake, an unwelcome visit, and the involuntary flicker of metal towards someone I had always sworn to protect, my superficial world that I had fought hard to hold onto collapsed into dust. There was nothing but the gritty truth, smeared across the floor in a dash of bright red. I had tried too hard to deny it for so long. It had been foolish to believe I would ever be free of everything I had become in Junon. Jude was right.

And I had to stop denying where I truly belonged - not raising a child, not living a lie in some resort town. This foolish ideal life I had been chasing was now coming to an end. An abrupt end.

"Yes," I confessed, "I killed her."

A cold chill swept across my skin. It was the truth, after all.

Denzel stood absolutely still, eyes wide. For a moment I thought he was going to attack me, then his whole body began to tremble violently. Tears flashed down his cheeks in shiny waves.

He closed his eyes and clenched his fists, angling his jaw downward, away from me.

"Denzel…" I said softly, unsure what could comfort him.

But he turned away sharply, still clutching his bleeding arm against his stomach. Walking swiftly towards the door, he did not face me nor acknowledge my words.

He paused when he reached the doorway, his back still to me. In a low resolute tone, he said calmly, "I never want to see you again." The malice was unmistakable and the harshness should have made me jump to stop him or deny my own words to patch the sudden rift between us. But I did nothing.

Without another second past, he opened the door and left.

I was still clutching the sword, its edge glinting with Denzel's and Lars' blood. The coldness never left my skin. I should have ran after him, reasoned with him, tried to at least make sure he got to Kalm safely so Elmyra could care for him, but my body and brain felt nothing.

The confession had brought my true self into focus. And Denzel's trust was gone. Irreparable. Everything had crashed in a matter of minutes.

There was only one thing that remained within me. There was only one action that really gave me happiness anymore. And there was a dead guy in my apartment that deserved some retribution. And a city that was tearing itself apart because of me, because of my selfish desire for the best of both worlds. I had wanted to protect Tifa and live as an assassin. It was an impossibility, and Jude proved that. Killing him did nothing to sate the thing within me. It was all clear now, so damn clear.

That same afternoon, I left town and headed south after a half-hearted search for Denzel. He was long gone, of course. No trace. But he was now part of a separate life – one I no longer felt attached to.

Only one place remained for me. I had to help fix what I had helped destroy. It was, perhaps, the only way to find solace.

* * *

The smell of metal and salt water brought back a nauseous wave of memories the moment I crossed into Junon's city limits. Nothing had changed and yet the place felt distant and foreign, a shade of something I had once held great. The dilapidated buildings of the outer slums loomed around me, cold and unfriendly, like silent denizens scorning the reappearance of an outcast. It was long past midnight by the time I got there, and the streets were mostly vacant.

Without delay, I sped towards the upper tier's business district, catching glimpses of the ocean in the distance along the way. A thousand white slivers gleamed along the curves of the black waves as they rolled to shore, and the circular streetlamps lighting the upper tiered area were unnecessary under the full moon.

Lars had died because of me, and I had to make some sort of restitution.

I never thought much about my actions before then. Events just occurred for me as a single immutable ribbon. The frayed ends of my initial split with Tifa long ago had braided into a single existence where I was alone and uncaring. I just did things without reason. No justification for the mako or the killings. No logic behind it.

But being back in Junon made me think. It made a lot of things come back in pieces. The thoughts of her death paused and I instead recalled that last moment where I could have changed things, altered what had happened to her, kept her safe - the final time she had been in my old apartment. She stood by the door in the kitchen, preparing to leave, and I did nothing to stop her. Nothing. She argued her points and gave me time to change my mind. But I just let her go even as I cursed myself and listened to her footsteps disappear. I still did nothing. And she's gone. If only I had done something different to stop her from leaving, like argue back with her or convince her to let me into her plans or just to hold her to me. Just hold her once.

I remember her words so clearly. _You're trapped here, aren't you?_

Still she was with me somehow, and perhaps I could go back to my old apartment and find her standing in that kitchen and we could try again. I could change that silence between us.

I shook my head dismissively. What a fairytale. The culmination of my actions had killed her. And now Lars.

Enough of that. If Lars had been telling the truth, then the supposed thugs would be hanging around his establishment, even at this late hour.

I could never make anything up to Tifa, and I had failed to properly care for Denzel, but at least Lars would not be left entirely without vengeance against the ex-associates that had driven him to seek my help.

Traveling through Junon was uneventful though filled with hard memories. I passed the apartment complex Jude used to live in, the place where I had discovered Tifa's suicide wish. I heard the hissing ocean beyond the tiers and remembered the sick pulling of her body beneath its waves. Even the café where I had made a pact with Jude for her safety made me cringe. She was everywhere.

I reached Lars' business without further determent. The bar at the dead-end of an alley should have had a few patrons stumbling out on their bleary way home, but its owner was dead, and the end of the narrow side-street was dark save for a single dim streetlamp and a few tiny cigarette tips luminous in the shadows just beyond the light. The men who had been threatening Lars.

Whatever chatter had been ensuing abruptly stopped the moment I pulled up and cut the bike's engine. Slowly, I stood then retrieved all six pieces of my sword, clicking them together with a minimal amount of effort and motion.

A few grumbles of bemusement commenced and the four shadows moved into the light. They were all indeed ex-associates of Jude's organization.

The one I presumed was the leader stepped forward. The man behind him I recognized as the associate who had been there after I had killed Jude and Tifa, with the green materia rolling in his palm and a totally bewildered look smeared on his face. He nearly jumped when I made eye contact. The one in front glared at me.

"What the hell are you doing back here? We all thought you were dead…" he began, his tone confrontational.

I said nothing to him at first. My eyes were locked with his but I was watching the subtle movements of the others, waiting to see if they would try to attack me, and shifted my footing slightly in case they did.

"You realize how shitty this place has been since you decided to up and go?" the leader continued, and I couldn't tell if he was relieved or angry to see me, "You…you leave and the contacts in Wutai don't wanna do business anymore! They don't wanna deal with any of us! You off Jude and now the rest of us have to suffer? Let me guess, you still get the pure shit right? And you just laugh while the rest of us here suffer, just suffer because people like Lars ain't got nothing useful anymore!"

"Lars is dead," I said indifferently.

The man's face changed from contempt to uncertainty. He blinked. "Then…what do you want? You coming back to help us?"

"Why didn't you leave Lars alone?"

"What fuckin' difference does that make now?" he cried, "And why do you care all of a sudden? You've been gone for months!"

I was sick of talking, and I knew how it was going to end anyways so why not cut to the chase.

In a single movement I tensed my muscles and swung the sword in a beautiful upwards arc, cutting cleanly across his chest, through the ribcage, tearing along the neck and out the jaw. Blood and bone spewed outwards and in seconds he was nothing but a pile of red mess.

Instantly, two others attacked. One jumped forward, slashing with a curved short blade that I easily dodged before cutting sideways through his right clavicle, effectively severing an arm. He screamed and the weapon dropped with a clatter. The other had reached for a gun and was now frantically trying to shove a fire materia into its slot but his hands were shaking too much. I helped him with that problem by dismembering him. Hands and gun fell unceremoniously into the growing pool of blood that had accumulated from his friend. Then I finished off the other who had lost an arm by puncturing his heart through his back with a delightful crunch of bone and squish of organs.

There was a final ex-associate alone in the alley, frozen, eyes on me. It was the one that had seen Jude's dead body that night, had brought me that curing materia, had seen Tifa's corpse. He remained perfectly still.

"You are the witness once again it seems," I stated blandly.

His face instantly contorted into one of pitiful begging.

"D-d-don't kill me!" he pleaded, eyes wide, "I was only following the others. I had no choice but to follow them! You gotta believe me! It's just been crazy tryin' to get mako! Everyone is acting like this! Y-you have to realize how bad it's all gotten!"

I sighed. "I have no intention of killing you." And it wasn't a lie. He was the only other living person who had seen what Jude had done to Tifa and then what I had done to Jude in return. Perhaps he was the only one who really understood why Jude was dead.

"B-but why…why did you kill them?" he ventured timidly.

"I promised Lars that I would deal with whoever had been threatening him."

"But…you said Lars is dead."

"Lars _is_ dead."

He was silent for several seconds, then slowly backed away from the expanding dark puddle oozing from the disjointed pile of gore between us. The three crumpled bodies held hardly any semblance to their former existences moments prior. The tremor in the remaining ex-associate's hands and arms tapered off and he audibly caught his breath with a painful-sounding cough.

I did nothing. The thick scent of blood hung in the air around us like a curse.

"Are you really back then?" he ventured to ask quietly, "To take over where Jude left off?"

Jude never voluntarily left anything. I took it from him.

"I suppose," I said finally. There was truly no where else for me, no other purpose, no other reasons anymore.

Even though I desperately wanted something else, some other existence, it hit me that I would never have it and furthermore that I shouldn't have it. It's better to destroy something beautiful than to let it wither to dust.

I wanted to hold her again. Just once. I could still feel her in my arms. A mirage. A wound I could never suture. A silence I could never fill. It didn't matter anymore. It _couldn't_ matter.

I turned away from the other associate and wiped the edge of my blade clean on the clothed shoulder of one of the recently deceased.

"So… What do we do now?" the other ventured to speak in a muted tone.

"Leave them. As a message to all the other junkies who come here looking for Lars and mako," I responded, unaffected. There was more on my mind.

"And what about us…?"

I shrugged. "Rebuild. Reorganize." New infrastructure. New direction. What more could be done?

"You have no idea what a relief that is to hear," he muttered in a manner between secrecy and joy, "How do we start? _Where_ do we start?"

I couldn't face him. There was something dying in my chest. A cold, painful echo. I shrugged it off and began to walk away from the pile of bodies.

"Everything starts somewhere," I replied.

* * *

Time passes as always. Unstoppable, relentless.

Somewhere between the urgent screams of the tortured…

"No! Please! Don't kill me!"

And the frantic promises from breaths cut short by a blade…

"I swear it won't hap-"

And the veiled frightened tones of my associates…

"We've secured an unusual supply of mako. The properties have been slightly altered to produce an even more potent effect."

And the tumultuous accusations spouted moments before death…

"You really are a monster."

And the beautiful silence that I give them…

Somewhere between all those things, I remember being someone else. I think of her, still. But it is a muted numbness. I do not allow myself to remember too deeply. Best to stay on the surface. And embrace whatever I am now. Whatever I've become.

…Tifa…I'm so sorry.

* * *

_- fin -_


End file.
